


Look at Me and Remember

by PlethoraOfCreatures



Category: Original Work
Genre: A lot a bit, Gen, Guys I have IDEAS, Help, High School, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Everything, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm really struggling with this language tag, Identity Reveal, It'll be okay though, Just "What?" in general, Mela likes to swear, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Most of the characters are cops at this point, My First Fanfic, Once I know what I'm doing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, School Shootings, Secret Identity, Shapeshifting, Superpowers, Werecats, What Was I Thinking?, What am I doing?, a little bit, but i'm trying, but not really, yeah - Freeform, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlethoraOfCreatures/pseuds/PlethoraOfCreatures
Summary: I was waiting for the perfect moment to strike him, the man who dared go after me and my friends.And then I launched myself at his back, savagely ripping at any exposed skin with four-inch claws.Thirty minutes later, I walked out a hero.And that's when my life went to hell.Edit (as of 10/02/19): I've changed a detail in Chapter 11. It doesn't really change the story that much, it was just a matter of convenience.





	1. What a Lovely Day for A Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> Hey anyone who reads this! This is my first writing, well, ever, and so I would be ever so grateful if you told me what you thought about it.

I was nodding my head along to "Take Me Back" by Kongos in History class when it happened. It was practically the end of the day, and I wasn't really paying attention.

I yanked out my earbuds just as the crusty PA system crackled to life, delivering news that no one wants to hear.

"Armed intruder in the building. Go to lockdown. This is not a drill." The voice was male and was surprisingly not panicked.

I heard students gasp around me, and the teacher ushered us into the previously assigned hiding places, away from the door and out of sight.

I snorted to myself. What school would be totally abandoned at only 2:30? I looked up at the teacher. Not yet. I set myself down and prepared to wait.

It was a tense twenty minutes as I waited, my music still playing. Then the teacher got a signal from the outside. The police force was here. He nodded to us silently. Now we were going to get the hell out.

My class got up and began moving for the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I followed.

Not yet, I told myself. Not yet.

But I also told myself that this would be the last time I worked in silence, in broad daylight, but still unseen.

I made it out, and so did many others. They flooded out from the school, sprinting across the grassy baseball fields, kicking up clots of dirt and grass like a bizarre herd of animals. They rounded third base to home to first on the softball field, some purposely scuffing their feet on the ground to make it seem like they were flying along in a cloud of dust.  The runners’ feet kicked up a steady drum of rolling thunder, long and low like a growl.

The growl of the beast the gunman kicked awake.

Speaking of beasts, some kids were so done with this, they did not give a single shit. Some ran in packs of five or six, howling like wolves, trying to roar like lions, (they were half-successful), and diving around each other like dolphins in the waves. I saw one start to mimic the gallop of a horse, her feet tapping out a tattoo of thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. And absolutely all of them were shrieking with laughter.

More kids joined her, making a regular thudding against the ground. But they didn't neigh or whinny like horses. They started to shout battle cries.

Some were from their favored sports teams, and others yelled the generic 'charge!’

But smaller groups started yelling the same thing.

“For Poseidon!”

“Dumbledore’s Army!”

“For Asgard!”

Others whooped and called like birds, and some just screamed for the fun of it. My favorite had to be the music though:

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord-”

“So prepare, for the chance of a lifetime, be prepared for sensational news-”

“If you wanna save your soul from Hell a'riding on our range-”

“Oh, sing a song of Calvary, and its glory and dismay-”

Some were playing well-known movie themes, such as the Avengers, Hedwig's Theme, and Indiana Jones.

They streamed from the doors in a flood of multicolored cloth, dust, and music. The very few cars that were still on the road moved out of the way, not only to move out of the way of the first responders but to also watch in awe the grand race that was happening around them.

They watched the chanting, singing, running mob of people flow past. They heard the runners’ growl, the villains' songs, the battle cries, the church hymns, and the songs that signaled the start of people becoming heroes. But most of all, they heard the laughter.

Ringing across the school grounds, chasing birds out of their trees, running back and forth, taunting the shadows, it was loud, bold, and derisive. It carried a silent dare, a soundless challenge, and a very loud message that said, `We are not afraid of you. Be afraid of us.’

Some ran for the storefronts that were a mere four-minute walk away, and others ran for the neighborhoods that were across the street. I saw them leap over fences, ring doorbells and knock on windows. I saw them running in a way that would make our gym teacher's eyes well up with tears of pride.

I knew what they were doing. It was smart.

Even though a sizable force of the boys in blue was already on the ground, my schoolmates were calling for more support. Using their own phones and the houses, I could already hear more sirens. Even other adults were emerging from the nearby houses, armed with water bottles for the students who had raced what was close to a quarter-mile in less than a minute.

My schoolmates weren't able to fight. Not by a long shot. But they were protecting their school all the same.

Run, hide, fight. Somehow, the school kids had managed to do all three.  

Yet even as I was watching this silent call to arms, I was not a part of it. I stayed, lingering by the flock of police cars, unnoticed. There were also various news crews arriving on the scene, buzzing about like vultures, waiting for a story.

That was really my cue to take action.

I calmly walked up to the makeshift barrier of police tape and officers, and hip-checked one of the latter to the ground. I slipped under the neon yellow tape and made my way over to Principal Ellar, a kindly old man with a good heart and a good head. He was one of the few people I trusted, along with my friend, Mela.

Speaking of which, she wasn't outside. Usually, by now, she would be following me, calling me an idiot in every language except English, while I drowned her out with my music, which I still had.  But as I noticed now, there was a distinct lack of Italian insults in the air.

Which I assumed meant that she was still in the building.

With an active shooter.

Shit.

I stalked up to Principal Ellar and hissed, "My friend is still in there. I'm going in to get her." I was livid. But not with the drunken, mind-clouding anger that led people to make stupid decisions. No. It was the icy and yet blazing fury that made people take down anyone who stood in their way.

"Are you certain, Kenia?" he asked. That was another reason why I trusted the frail old man that stood before me. He truly cared for each and every student that walked the halls of his schools. He knew that even though we complained about our school being a jail, (the architect was a former prison designer, with barbed wire on some areas of the fence) we had a fierce protectiveness over our school, our stomping grounds. And he respected that.

Which was why he had made a plan for us. So that we could fight and yet still be safe.

"Yes," I said. "Those sons of bitches went too far. They attacked here. My friends." My chosen family, I silently added. They messed with them. The police would never find their body if I had my way.

No. If I had my way and had my brake line cut.

_Don’t go looking in the snowbanks. That’s where the bodies are buried._

"Please. Do not kill him. Let him suffer in prison," Principal Ellar said. "I don't want you to be charged with the same crimes he did."

That was the right answer to me, and yet so, so wrong at the same time.

"Are you saying that that... that mother-" Principal Ellar may have been in his late eighties, but he ran a high school. He could glare down a grizzly.

"Kenia," he said, "You have every right to be angry. I am tempted to join you in making this man's ears bleed. But until 3:00, I will not have such language on these grounds. Ah!" he said when I started to protest. "Look at the time. 2:55." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"While I admire your sense of humor, are you saying that there are dead in the school?" My music was still playing, Song of Sorrow. Elle King. How appropriate.

Principal Ellar looked me dead in the eye. "I hope to the Lord Almighty not, but there have been shots fired," I growled.

"Kenia. Don't-" I waved a hand at him. I had my rules.

"Kill him, yes, I know." And I wouldn't. People suffered in prison. There are some crimes worse than others. And even other criminals have their own rules.

An instance of this would be a child molester or a rapist. See, because while armed robbery and fraud are bad things to do, most of the people there had families. Wives, sons, daughters.

And what that person did, could’ve happened to their loved ones.

You can probably see where I’m going with this, right?

Those guys tend to have more people watching them, just so that they can serve out their sentences, at least not in a constant state of physical pain.

I would let him marinate in guilt and drown in regret. Death for some was just a release.

I wanted this bastard to suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo? Thoughts?


	2. Sir, Did Someone Throw a Chair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenia is in the school. 
> 
> Da Duh DUUUUUNNNNNN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I have some of this pre-written. 
> 
> That comment button? It's calling your name.

I moved past him and back into the building, quickly finding the hall where the shooter was. I had passed several bloodstained walls, but none of them smelled like the students. There was no faint scent of pencil lead and bad cafeteria food.

_People say blood smells like iron. It doesn’t. Blood smells like blood._

There was, however, a scent of metal, more than the smell that the blood already had. I stifled a laugh as I realized what it was.

It was from one of the blue plastic chairs that were used in rooms that had no desks. It appeared that one of the students had thrown one at the gunman's head.

Some students had the tenacity of a terrier.  

The gunman was just around the corner, too close to the classroom where I could tell four classes were hiding. Mela was among them. I could see the kids in the window, which opened out into a sealed courtyard. The reason why they didn't climb out was that the glass wasn't bullet-proof, and then they would be in direct sight of the gunman.

The other kids looked terrified and were gathered under the table. Another table was pushed against the door, but that wouldn’t hold the man back for long. While they looked scared, one was white-knuckling the fire extinguisher and another had stacked all the near thousand-page dictionaries that they could find into a semi-circular wall around the table, in a hope that they were thick enough to slow bullets.

Yet another had her headphone wire out, with the ends wrapped around her hands. It was clear that she planned to use them as a garrote, as she was still hidden from the gunman’s view, but ready to wrap the wire around his throat if he came in. Another boy was right beside her, with what looked like a fistful of sand from the geology project in the middle of the room, ready to throw it in the man’s eyes. Two more boys had a gallon bag full of Skittles and an air horn. Lord knows what they were originally planning to do with said items, but now anything was a weapon.

I got a vague idea of their plan:

As soon as the man burst in, the boy with the sand would throw it in the man’s eyes as the boy with the air horn would blast it in the man’s face. Blinded by sand, the gunman would already be distracted, but the air horn would almost certainly cause him to drop the gun. It's funny how even the toughest men shriek like a little girl when caught off guard by the loud and obnoxious blare of an air horn.

The girl with her headphones would go in, and the gallon bag of Skittles would go… everywhere. Some on the floor, some in the eyes, and the half-full bag to the stomach would cause him to go down. Then a fire extinguisher to the head would knock him out.  

All in all, a pretty solid plan.

But so many things could go wrong.

He was in such a position that while I was able to see my classmates, he himself wasn't. I quickly ran through my head dozens of ideas, all of which came from previous encounters with gunmen. I rejected the first twenty or so, then came across one that could work. One of my favorites, too.

The old "COME AT ME DIPSHIT" plan.

And yes. I named it myself.

It involved:

1) Blasting my music

2) Being a wolf in sheep's clothing

3) Making this son of a bitch get the hell out of my school

4) Shocking the hell out of all the people outside

I was most excited about that last one.

Sure, it was a bit childish, but I waited until Hozier's "Foreigner's God" was over and "Angel Of Small Death And The Codeine Scene" started. I turned it all the way up, and then smirking to myself, yanked my headphones out of their jack. Almost immediately, Hozier's voice came blasting out of my phone's speakers:

“ _I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful,_

_Toying somewhere between love and abuse._

_Calling to join them the wretched and joyful,_

_Shaking the wings of their terrible youths._ ”

The kids inside looked shocked, but then the realization hit then, and they started to smile. Some even laughed out loud.

This situation had happened many times before, sadly. Friends, after they had gotten to safety, talked with each other. And wouldn’t you know it, but a strange pattern started to emerge.

If people were still inside, trapped with the gunman, music would start to play. Usually music they would hear on the radio. The gunman would go after the music, away from the people, and then the people inside would get out safely.

Later, the shooter would be found beaten to hell and back and knocked out somewhere, with the gun emptied of bullets and crushed into twisted metal.

At that point, they knew that the person playing the music, which was always me, was the so-called ‘easier target’ and the gunman would go after me instead of them. Two girls even started singing along to the chorus, their voices muffled but with a chilling quality:

“With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean, she’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene,” they sang.

Mela, I could see, stood up and shook her head. She gave me a flat look from across the courtyard, and I smiled brightly at her.

The man's head whipped up towards the noise. I stepped out into the view of his sight and flipped him the bird. He started to lift his gun at me, and quick as light, I fled silently through the halls. Silent, but for my music, the singing, and my derisive laughter ringing through the halls.

Multiple windows were open, and as I ran past them, I knew that not only was my laughter and music heard, but I was sighted by the boys in blue and the news crews. For the most part, I didn't care.

" _Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I,_

_Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet._

_Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile,_

_Bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet."_

The reason why I was laughing was that I had the home-court advantage. Our school was a literal maze, with even the floor levels screwed up. It went 100, 400, 200, 500, and then 300. He thought he could chase me.

Hell, I was chasing him.

I dashed up a side staircase, catcalling and insulting the man. Briefly, I wondered why he didn't shoot. Then I realized.

He couldn't even see me. He was following my voice.

And you can't shoot a sound.

I made it up to the top floor and sprinted to the door to room 307. Funny. It was my History class. I heard the man's heavy footsteps and breathing, and mentally compared it to my silent run through the school. I quickly went to hide under my teacher's massive desk and waited as the man entered the room.

As the gunman moved past my hiding place, I could smell his odor, which was a disgusting mixture of blood, dirt, and sweat. I could practically taste the fear rolling off him in thick waves. I grinned to myself. This was what I had been hoping for. It meant that I didn't have to kill him later.

He was afraid.

If he was afraid, he was uncertain. If he was uncertain, he wasn't sure that this was the only way. He was one of the good ones. The ones that would feel remorse.

Remorse or not, he screwed with the wrong damn school.

I could tell all this, but I could not see the man’s face. It was covered by a black mask. Cheap. Plastic. If I wanted to, I would place him at around twenty-seven years old. He was carrying a gun. Point 22 Glock. I didn't care. It still had around four bullets. I didn’t care about that either.  

I had spent dozens of these moments like this, mulling over the situation, trying to figure out what I was feeling.

You know, for those essay prompts that might come up: 'Name a challenge that you faced and overcame. Describe it in detail, and what you felt throughout the event.'

I took stock:

Anger? Check.

Protectiveness? Check.

Focus? Check.

Fear? No.

Okay, feelings were sorted out. What about the actual event itself?

Oh, yes. A high-speed chase through a school with music with lyrics representing something as wild as me ringing through the halls.

Yeah. They'll believe that.

I shook myself out of my reverie as I saw that the man’s back was now exposed to me. Perfect.

I went perfectly still.

And then I launched myself at the man’s back, caterwauling like a wildcat as I ripped into any exposed bit of flesh savagely.

I was aided by this with the four-inch-long claws and mouthful of teeth that I now had.

I was a catamount, a cat-of-the-mountain. I turned into a cougar at will.

This was why I was the last line of defense in this town. Why I went in when regular guardians had done all that they could do. I was the one who caught the evil that took the shape of men and defended my land and my people. I was the one who overtook them and left them on the doorstep of the police like a cat with a mouse.  

My music was still playing, as ridiculous as that seemed to me at the time. It was one of my favorites, Fire, by Barns Courtney

" _Oh, a thousand faces staring at me,_

_Thousand times I’ve fallen,_

_Thousand voices dead at my feet,_

_Now I’m gone, now I’m gone, now I’m gone_."

It was one of my favorites for a reason, and it wasn't because of the obvious.

It was more of the average person finding a reason to fight. Finding a reason to argue with death, and not just lay down and die. Finding a place worth laying down your life. Finding something, someone, important enough to grit your teeth, growl, and spit and the eye of death and consequences be damned.

Thirty seconds later, I padded back outside the building, still in the shape of a large black cougar.  The man's leg was in my mouth, the man, thankfully, still being attached to it. He groaned slightly when his head dropped over the curb.

Good, I thought. This is my territory.

I stalked up to a police officer, ignoring the screams of people who were a bit shocked at the sight of a massive black feline stroll out of the building where a girl had just dashed in, and who was also dragging what looked to be the body of the gunman along behind her.

I spat out the leg and sat back on my haunches, my shoulders reaching up to the man's waist. I curled my tail around me and looked up expectantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding chapter notes at the end, just for kicks. I did Chapter Three endnotes first, then Chapter One, and then this. Next will be Chapter Four, and then they'll progress normally. 
> 
> Also, I have an accessible computer, so chapter updates can pick up from never to maybe one or two a month because I worked like a hellion on this story from my phone. I really do miss autocorrect sometimes. Not that much, but the automatic capitalization was nice. 
> 
> See ya!


	3. Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenia's outside. With other people. Who see her. Fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this one's a bit short. But hey: cliffhanger AND a new character.
> 
> Edit: No longer short! Have badass Mela and Shakespearean insults!

I could almost imagine what I must've looked like to the cop. A cat with a dead bird, waiting on the threshold. But the cat was a black cougar, and the dead bird was in fact, a heavily concussed and bleeding man who was groaning slightly.

"Uhh... I... What-" the poor cop stammered. I felt slightly sorry for the young man. I shifted back into my human form, and the unfortunate man crumpled onto the asphalt.

"Oops," I said, nudging him slightly. The gunman groaned once more. I kicked him in the ribs.

"Shut up, and pray I don't get hungry later on," I growled out, my teeth looking a little too sharp for one officer's liking.

"Kenia!" he shouted, nailing the accent just right. I looked up at the tall officer in question.

"Stand down. We got it from here." I glared up at him, not bothering to hide the glitter of anger in my eyes. He stared back, cold ice in his.

"Oh yes, MacFinn, you were handling it pretty well in there. I didn't even have to shift- Oh wait. I did." I spat back, sarcasm flaying anyone within a fifty-foot area.

"Please, can you just take this seriously-" MacFinn started. He didn't get to finish.

"If I did take this seriously, this man would be dead, and so would all of them," I said, jutting my chin out at the various news crews.

He paled. "Kenia... You don't mean that... Do you?" The thing was, I did. I ignored the ringing in my ears to laugh bitterly.

"You tell me. I'm half of a wild animal. I see people with guns, and then I lash out or run. I smell unfamiliar people, and I don't trust them. I can practically smell their lies. I see intruders, and my instinct is to protect and defend. Whether that be by mauling them or starting some good old fisticuffs, my instinct doesn't care. You need to get me out of here. Or, if need be, I'll show myself out."

MacFinn shook his head. "You might have to take the latter, but the situation is not really ideal. Those vultures have been waiting for months to get a shot at our 'special task force.' They'll mob you." I grinned.

It wasn’t that I thought that he was joking. I knew that it was true. The reason why I was grinning was that they had no idea.

See, the sad thing was that this thing had happened before. The shootings. The school district had already wildly supported gun control before the first one. And after the first, they managed to get twenty-six new gun control laws passed. The reason why the response was so severe was because this had never happened before. It wasn’t the severity of the attack, as no one died, and there were only a few major injuries. It was that this was new. People were scared.

Heck, I was scared.

All I heard were screams.

All I smelled was a stranger and metal and my friends’ blood.

The PA system had said the dreaded words that I heard earlier today, but I didn’t understand. I stayed in my seat and looked around in confusion as the people around me scurried to hide in closets, behind desks, wherever.

They hissed at me to _get down!  You’ll get us all killed!_

And that’s when I heard the gunshots.

I got down.  

Everyone got out that day. MacFinn was one of the first in the school, looking ready to…

I don’t even know.

You know how people call the F5 tornado the ‘Finger of God’, just because it’s so destructive?

MacFinn’s face looked like an F4 tornado, rapidly approaching F5.

And when I saw his face, something hit another vague something and created a spark. I had felt this before, but that spark never grew into something more.

But the screams and the metal and the sense of something _wrong wrong run protect_ amounted to something so much like kindling.

And wouldn’t you know it, but that spark landed straight into that pile of kindling, and it _blazed_ into life.

I still kept it to myself.

Those new gun laws kept the criminal scum at bay for about two months after we got back into school.

And then the second shooting had happened.

Bless my school, we rolled our eyes at the fourteen-year-old with the AK 47 that was far too heavy for him.

I don’t think he knew where the trigger was.

Despite all that, he still got a few shots off. A few broken windows and a grazed leg later, Mela marched up behind the kid and kneed him in the balls and snatched the gun from him.

I think that was when we had become friends. I had never really spoken to her before, but she was in some of my classes. I looked her in the eyes, and somehow we both knew what the other was thinking. I was right behind her when she grabbed the gun.

I took it from her and leveled it on my shoulder, pointing the muzzle at the back of the kid’s head. I wasn’t going to shoot him. But I damn well looked like I wanted to.

When MacFinn came in after Mela had texted him with my phone with about ten other officers, they all looked at me in shock.

“No no,” I said, putting the gun on the ground. “It’s this one who you want.” Mela pointed to the kid on the ground.

I went home with MacFinn speaking happily about Mela and how she had been the one to get the gun by hitting him where it had hurt.

MacFinn looked disapproving but I knew he thought it was hilarious.

Mela, who had spoken in favor of gun control a month before, now opted for arming the teachers. The school board, however, made up of bossy, vapid soccer moms, ignored her pleas and instead went for having a police hotline.

Two months later, the third shooting happened.

The police were there in record time, though there were even more injuries than the first time.

During the third shooting, I was _pissed._ I slumped against the wall that my classmates were huddled against, with crossed arms and a flat expression on my face. Mela, who was next to me, had her head propped up on her face and was texting silently one her phone, her face looking utterly bored. She didn’t know what I was yet, at that point.

I dug out my own phone, put everything on mute, and started texting Mela, even though she was right next to me.

It was the epitome of lazy, but I wasn’t about to have a chat when we were supposed to be silent and out of sight.

 

Rawr:

This is shit.

Aurum:

I concur.

I hear sirens. Police are here.

Rawr:

Guess that hotline worked.

Aurum:

Yeah, well there’s been like twenty shots so more injuries

Yay

 

Mela looked up and rolled her eyes to convey her sarcasm.  

 

Rawr:

I hope the district gets sued.

Aurum:

So do I.

Is MacFinn gonna show up here?

Storm the building and kick some ass again?

Rawr:

Hahahaha

Maybe.

He only did that one time, and he got glared at.

But he did stop the guy with a gun who was shooting it and that’s a good thing with them

Aurum:

You should text him.

Let him know that it’s the utter boredom we are dying of.

Not the actual bullets.

 

I smirked and swiped out of my texting conversation with Mela and started to text MacFinn.

 

Rawr:

Hey, r u here yet?

The Fuzz:

Yeah. I’m outside. You alright?

Rawr:

No. This is Kenia O’Mallack’s ghost.

The Fuzz:

I take that as a yes.

Rawr:

R u allowed to be texting me?

Are you going against orders, Henry?

The Fuzz:

Never call me by my first name again. You know I hate my name.

And no, I am not going against orders. This is the first contact, so congrats.

You just embarrassed me in front of literally everyone.

Rawr:

I’m totally screenshotting this conversation.

The Fuzz:

Well, the joke’s on you, you put your name in as Rawr

And everyone sees it.

Rawr:

Curses be upon thee! Thy breath stinks of toasted cheese! Go thou, and fill another room in hell!

The Fuzz:

Did you just insult me in Shakespeare talk?

Rawr:

To quote Hamlet,

“No!”

I quoted all of that from Shakespeare.

You should be proud of me. I learned this in English.

The Fuzz:

Hahaha.

But really. Chief is looking over my shoulder as I type this.

He’s telling me to hurry up and ask relevant questions.

Such language.

Do you know where the guy is?

Rawr:

Hi Lou

As far as I’m concerned Shakespeare is always relevant.

Uh, heard noises from language hallway.

 

Sudden noises cracked the alien silence.

 

Rawr:

Oh shit shit shit shit

The Fuzz:

Kenia?

What is it?

Rawr:

Gunshots and footsteps close ish to us.

Oh hey, I see you.

The Fuzz:

Where?

Rawr:

Take a step to the right.

No your right.

Dammit that is still my right

There you go.

Now look at the window.

 

I stood up and waved as hard as I could at the window. I saw MacFinn’s face looking into the dark room, trying to find me. His eyes landed on me and I gave him two thumbs up.

 

The Fuzz:

I think you’re all good to get out of the window.

Just be really quiet.

Rawr:

I’ll spread the good news.

 

I moved away from the wall and turned around, pointing at the window and MacFinn. I gestured for my classmates to follow me and went over to the window.

I carefully unlocked it and pushed it open silently. I climbed out of it into the bright sunlight and helped the other kids get out as well. Even though we were outside, I whispered.

“Run,” I said. “Run away from here, find your parents, find an officer, find a face you know. Or a public place. Go to Barnes & Noble. Go to Starbucks. Go to Wawa. And if you hear shots, remember that Bio lesson. Rabbits are prey. But prey can get away. Run like a rabbit. Zigzag, vary your speed, hell, run screaming all the long way home to distract them. But only if you hear shots. Or if you hear MacFinn here yell ‘rabbit!’”

“Cartwheels?” one girl with her makeup smeared and her long blonde hair in a ponytail asked.

I looked her dead in the eye. “Freaking somersaults, Stacy.”

A brute of a boy who I helped climb out next had his phone in his hands with a speaker hooked up to it. “Can I play my rap? He asked.

“Is it a distraction?”

He blinked. “I think so,”

“Go for it, man.”

More and more kids got out until almost everyone was out of the dark classroom. Our teacher, Mr. Meldam, or more commonly known as Mr. Madman, had gone to the bathroom not five minutes before the lockdown started. I had a sinking suspicion, but I decided to have some faith in humanity.

If you were paying attention, I said _almost._

Mela was still in there.

“Mela,” I hissed, about to climb back in and drag her out. “What the hell are you looking for?” Indeed, she was rummaging in her backpack for something.

“Video evidence, that’s what,” she said. “I’ve recorded this whole thing to show people that we’re not even scared anymore. Even Stacy. She was just crying because she thought her brand-new Corvette would get scratched. And if they claim that she was just trying to save face, I have her on camera, asking her if she was alright. And you know what she said to me? ‘I’m worried about my car. What if it gets damaged?’ It’s all on camera. I don’t know about you, but I’m so done with this shit.”

She finally grabbed the small video camera and hurried to the window, but then a gunshot pierced the air. It was right outside the door.

“Rabbit!” MacFinn yelled.

Sure enough rap music started playing, and I looked back and saw Stacy doing a perfect round off.

Mela, being Mela, was of course not content with getting the hell out of the room but instead rolled her eyes and grabbed her laptop bag with her laptop in it. She held it by the long strap, ready to use it as either a shield for her vital organs or something to swing at someone’s head.

“Mela!” I said. “Get out!”

“Relax,” she said. “The guy only has like two more bullets. My uncle is a hunter. I know what type of gun it is, and therefore, how many shots he can take before reloading. He’s almost out.”

“What if he reloaded?” I asked.

“There have been shots at regular intervals, and the time between said shots wasn’t long at all,” she said. “I’d wager that the gunman doesn’t care either.”

She walked back over to the door and peered through the keyhole. She gasped.

“Kenia!” she said. “Oh God, get the hell in here! It’s Mr. Madman! I’m not shitting you!” she hissed.

“Are you sure?” I asked.  

“Did I-”

Okay, I can’t tell you exactly what she said, but it wasn’t very nice.

“Did I freaking stutter?” she hissed at me.

I leaped back into the room as Mr. Madman broke the lock and the door in one go, with a wild look in his eyes and a rifle in his hands.

“Kenia!” MacFinn yelled.

But I couldn’t hear him.

For the first time in the eight years that I had known him, I had crossed the one line I never had crossed before: I’d shifted in front of one of my classmates.

With a roar, I flew through the air and tackled Mr. Madman and clubbed his head with one of my huge paws. I was about to tear into his cowardly body with claws and teeth and all the horrors of words I could find.

In times of danger or severe trouble, the strangest things go through my mind. Like then, quotes from books that I had read flew through my mind.  

_The cruelest lies are often told in silence._

_We all have a Monster within; the difference is in degree, not in kind._

_Neither love nor evil conquers all, but evil cheats more._

_The truth is rarely pure and never simple._

_But the only way to do not wrong is to never do anything._

_Heroes are made by the path they choose, not by the powers they are graced with._

_We are all the villains in someone else’s story._

_No man can win every battle, but no man should fall without a struggle._

_Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word._

_Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world._

_The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth._

But then I saw MacFinn.

He looked…

I don't…

I can’t…

I couldn’t describe the thing that MacFinn’s face was doing. It was some part sadness, one part anger, one part disgust, which I hoped was for the man, and not for me, and a small, small part of what looked like pride.

I stopped but didn’t shift back. I calmly sat on the man’s chest and listened to the gasping of the soon-to-be-incarcerated Mr. Meldam.

Mela studied me for a moment. Her face was carefully crafted.

“So,” she said. “You’re a Catamount.”

“Mela,” said MacFinn desperately. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Mela looked at him, surprised. “Why the hell would I? This is the coolest thing ever since I hacked into the pinball machine at the arcade!”

“That was you?” asked MacFinn.

“Shit,” Mela said.

After some explaining later, I got through everything. Mela, because she’s just so awesome, was now in my circle.

Mr. Madman was arrested, and I and Mela credited MacFinn with the capture. MacFinn himself credited the capture to an ‘unknown hero,’ who, quite strangely, neither I nor Mela saw.

The explanation Lou gave to the precinct was a ‘special task force.’ I had been hiding behind that cover until today. Because, of course, more shootings happened. Just not at school.

A church here, a party there, and the occasional gas station. I took care of them all.

But now?

I wanted to blow my cover.

I wanted to blow it sky-high.

And that, my friends, brings us to where we are now.

"Do not-"

"Kill them, yes, yes, I know," I said rolling my eyes. "I'm a minor, so I'll enjoy rubbing this in their faces knowing that they can't release my name to the public," I said. Oh, yes, I had plans.

"Just so you know," said MacFinn, "I wish you luck. Be careful, Kenia. I know your name means 'Spitfire' for a damn good reason."

"Something akin to that," I agreed. "So, I'll just walk out...? In any fashion that I want...?"

Officer MacFinn, being a smart man, cottoned on to my idea.

"Go give those vultures one hell of a field day," he said. "I can't wait to see their faces when they realize their dead meat isn't dead yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, formating, how I hate thee so. On the bright side, Chapter endnotes!
> 
> Also, you may have an idea of what exactly Mela said. I'm trying to stay away from that word as for now, but language might get a little nasty in later chapters. Just a heads up for you wonderful readers. 
> 
> See ya!


	4. Defensive Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vultures are out, and they're looking for the newest piece of meat: Kenia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that the work summary makes it sound like Wolverine or something.

I smiled one last time, and then turned on my heel and walked towards the news crews with a swagger in my step. I noticed that none of them were rolling live, but the news anchors were fixing their hair and putting on their 'I'm a news anchor' faces.  

As soon as they saw me coming, they whipped out their little notepads and pens and charged me in a flood of bland suits and dresses. Questions flew like bullets from an Uzi gun at me.

"Why did you run back in?"

"Can you shape-shift?"

"Who was the officer you were speaking to?"

"What is your name?"

"What are you?"

When they were about twenty feet away from me, I shifted into a cougar and snarled at them. That shut them up. I jumped up on top of a van and shifted back.

“My name is Kenia,” I announced. “And you might as well can it with the questions because I’m still a minor. “ I surveyed them all with a cold glare. “I’ll answer the questions that I heard. And I’ll give you a warning. One. I ran back in because that son of a bitch dared to walk with the intent to harm on my territory. He’s damn well lucky he still has his life. Two. Yes. To one animal. No koala bears or squirrels. No labs either. God save your soul if someone attempts to put me in a cage. There’ll be hell to pay. Three. I won’t say his name if he doesn’t want me to, and,” I said, looking over at him, and catching the subtle shake of his head no. “He doesn’t. Four. I already told you. Five. I am a guardian. I am a protector. I am not a vigilante or a superhero. I am me.

“And now for the warning. Screw with the people I mark as close to me, shove a microphone or a gun in their faces, I don’t care. But I will be there. And I will protect them, and their family, and their friends, hell the whole city they live in,” I looked out over the crowd. They looked pale. Whoops. Didn’t want to scare them.

“But,” I said, smiling now, “ I don't want you to be afraid of me jumping you in a dark alley. I don’t want to hurt anyone who’s innocent. Scratch that. I don't hurt anyone who's innocent. So, just so you know, if you see a big cat, it’s most likely me, and not an escapee from the zoo. But just in case, don’t approach."    

With that, I shifted back and leaped off the roof of the van, taking a small bit of pleasure in the way the reported fell over themselves to get out of my way. I padded back over to MacFinn, who was with the group of kids that had made their way out of the building when I activated my plan. Mela, I was glad to see, was with them. She and MacFinn gave me matching looks of humor and exasperation.

"Well...That happened," announced Mela. The other teenagers about her seemed shocked by her composure.

"Yep," MacFinn agreed. "Kenia...Why did you do that?" he asked, looking at me.

Now the teenagers looked at me in horror and shuffled back and forth, scared but unwilling to leave the field of safety projected by having a uniformed officer near.

That was not my intention. Great. Now everyone in school knew who I was. Dammit.

I shifted back and sighed. "Sorry," I said to my classmates. "Guess that was a bit of a shock. I don't want special treatment, nor do I have fleas," I added on, seeing one boy with a glint in his eyes and about to open his mouth, undoubtedly to say something stupid. He was the boy with the air horn, I noticed. "I'll thank you to not comment."

"Kenia," MacFinn said, with a lilt of impatience.

"Do what? What did I do wrong?" I asked, just as impatient.

You know what. Why did you not flaunt your power? Or give them a backstory that makes total sense at the time but is really you having a joke with yourself? Or not give them my name?" MacFinn asks, voice now confused.

"Because I was tired. Of many things," I said. "You should know about that. Of not getting credit. Of not being taken seriously. And of working in the shadows, but only figuratively. Nobody knew I existed. Besides you."

MacFinn's face softened. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"Yes, I know, you never knew, if I had said something, blah blah blah," I continued. "I like not being seen, it makes my job easier. I enjoy living as an unnamed threat. I want to be the protection detail that nobody knows about. I am amused by tracking down the thugs that the higher-ups morons send to do their dirty work. I like the hunt.

"Come on. I'm part of a predator. I've done the research, and apparently, that includes my soul as well. My freaking soul. When I show up at the station, waiting for you, I find all the shady-looking characters and memorize their face. Most of the time, it doesn't come to anything. But I like to be sure. When I file a report, what another rare officer who doesn’t know me sees is a fifteen-year-old girl, and nothing more.

"Sure, I know the score. I know what goes on in this city. I know how the legal system works. I know the terms. Hell, because of you, I'm practically a cop. I could go up against one and hold my own. And I thank you for that," I added as I saw him open his mouth with a stricken look on his face.  

"But I'm still a minor. And while that protects me from the hounds, it's one hell of an inconvenience at other times. I've seen the worst of humanity, and I still can't see an R-rated movie. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I want people to have a tiny inkling of doubt that I'm not average. That I'm not vulnerable. And it pisses me off that some people think that I am.

"Did you know that my eyes aren't green?" I ask MacFinn. He blanched. He had been listening to my tiny rant closely, eyes intent and not giving away anything.

"They aren't?" MacFinn asked. "But..."

"I know," I said. "Watch."

I let a bit of the wild feeling that was always in my gut when I shifted loose, and MacFinn gasped.

I couldn't personally feel a difference, but I knew that my eyes had changed to a yellow-gold. The first time it had happened, I was in the bathroom. I gasped and shifted, only to end up shivering in the bathtub as a cold and wet cougar.

Not my finest moment.

"Yep," I said shortly. "More of a freak than usual."

At this point, Mela stepped forward and addressed the silent group of teens who were still close by. "Any of you mess with her, I will legally and publically destroy any and all hopes of having a good life. I don't make threats I can't carry out."

They went pale, and I felt a bit bad for them. "Why don't we get over to where your parents are?" I asked them. "You can go home now. Stay there. Binge some Netflix." And don't get PTSD, I silently added.

"Good idea," MacFinn said, relief evident in his voice. "C'mon people. Follow me." He started walking towards to cluster of anxious parents, some holding baseball bats as if they were prepared to charge in and beat the shit out of whoever dared to touch their precious baby. MacFinn glanced back once or twice to make sure that the group of kids was following him.

He shouldn't have worried. The teens followed him, practically herding around him, with me and Mela tagging along at the back, clearing up any stragglers like a couple of sheepdogs.

As soon as the parents saw us, each rushed over to their child and immediately checked them for injuries. I relaxed. My job was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can see a real difference in my writing. It shows more in later chapters. This is still pretty early in my writing. I had written this around two years ago. When I went to post this, I had a heck of a time trying to make the beginning scene not sound insensitive. At the time, I had first written the start of this story right after a lockdown at my school. To put it short, a threat was made but nothing was found and everyone was okay. 
> 
> It was actually the end of the day, and it was History class. My classmates, as a whole, took it seriously enough. One kid, who I was crouched next to, asked me if I was scared to die. I was scared, but for my friends and couple of siblings who were scattered all over the building. I replied, "Death is but the next great adventure." I was pretty sure that I was quoting Dumbledore. (Edit: looked it up. I was.)
> 
> I alternated between praying to Saint Michael (look up his prayer, he's the guy who you call on for protection) and thinking about how amazing it would be if someone was able to stop a gunman before anyone got hurt. Even better, if that someone was just a kid. If they could summon superhero weapons, like Captain America's shield. Or if they could just summon the hero themselves. If they had wings like Maximum Ride. I decided on Kenia's ability to shapeshift into a cougar. If you've ever read Serafina and the Black Cloak, that's where I got the term catamount. I unknowingly made Kenia a Mary-Sue. She could deal with problems quite easily, even a gunman without any Kevlar. In later chapters, I'm going to give her some flaws, which will hopefully make her a better character to read. 
> 
> If you've ever been in a school shooting situation, you have my condolences. I have no idea what you went through, other than the vague idea that it must have been hellish. If you're offended in any way, let me know. I'm trying to make my writing both fun to read while dealing with some very heavy topics and treating said heavy topics with respect. 
> 
> Kenia doesn't represent me in any way at all. What she does is dangerous, even with her powers. It only takes a stray bullet, because, unlike MacFinn, she doesn't have body armor. I might work that into a later chapter. Fighting is your last option. You run, then you hide, then, and only then, when all else fails, you fight. You might want to be a hero, but you don't have to be one. The only heroes needed are the men who are first on the scene. The men actually trained to fight people like that gunman from Chapter 2. 
> 
> I've droned on long enough. If you've made it this far, congrats! If not, well, you'll never read this anyway. 
> 
> See ya!
> 
> (Edit: I called MACFinn MCFinn. Oof.)


	5. Don't Throw the Radio Out the Window, It's Expensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenia leaves. But something's off...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens. Plot develops. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea what the take-home policy for police cars look like. I also am clueless on how police radios work.

Then one of the parents walked over, a father. "Are you the girl who went back in?" he asked, looking at me.

"Uh..." I said, looking at MacFinn. He shrugged. "Yes. Why?" I figured that was his assent.

"I owe you a debt," the man said. "Anything I can do to help you, I'll do it." Well, that was surprisingly new. Not many people wanted to think about the traumatic event they just went through, and instead decided to move on.

More surprising to me was that more parents came through, offering favors and gratitude.

"Ah, the unintended consequences of revealing yourself," MacFinn muttered in my ear. "You'll be eating homemade lasagna for the rest of your natural life."

"No," I muttered back. "I'm sure a few of those fathers know how to grill."

MacFinn snorted at that and then started working through the crowd of parents, mostly with a lot of "thank you"s, "excuse us"s, and "you're welcome"s.

We finally made it to MacFinn's squad car, and I dropped into the shotgun seat, exhausted. I put my black Converse-encased feet on top of the dash and leaned back.

"Feet off," MacFinn told me. "That rule will never change. Stop being so optimistic."

"I just took down a gunman. Cut me some slack. Also, optimistic?" I asked. "I have been described as caustic, cynical, and pessimistic. Never, ever, have I been called optimistic."

"Don't care. Put 'em down," he said, his eyes locked onto the road. "You want me to pick anything up on the way home? Smoothie, burger, anything?"

MacFinn and I shared a charming little colonial house a side street, tucked away from the full force of the close-by city that never stopped moving. Multiple times I had asked why he had kept me around.

His response was always the same: "Because, why not?"

I could never think of a response to this.

"No," I said, snapping back to the present. "No, thanks. I'm good. I just want to get home."

"All right," MacFinn said. "But we have to make a stop at the station. This is a squad car, in case you haven't noticed."

The rest of the drive was unusually quiet. MacFinn should have been keeping up a steady stream of random chatter, trying to keep my mind off of whatever had happened, whether it be an annoying substitute teacher or something like this shit-show. But now?

Now he was silent.

"What's on your mind?" I asked bluntly. MacFinn jerked, and yet the car stayed steady on the road.

"What?" he asked. "Oh, uh, no. Nothing at all, why do you ask?" So he was going to be difficult now. Wonderful.

"Oh, let me list the ways," I said. "One, you're silent. That almost never happens. Two, your cop radio isn't on. You have lectured me about always putting the radio on. Three, you're somehow both paying attention to the road and looking at your phone like it's going to bite you."

"I am not!" MacFinn protested.

"You're leaning away from it," I told him. "You taught me how to read body language. 'Just exaggerate their actions in your mind'." I said, making air quotes. "You look like you want to throw it out the window."

"I regret teaching you that," he said. "I tell you when we get back home."

And of course. We had to go back to the station. Cops weren't allowed to take their squad cars home.

I smiled faintly. The police weren't allowed to take the cars home, much like a preschooler with a favorite toy.

"Radio," I pointed out again. He glared at me and then turned it on.

"Situ at high school resolved. Gunman in custody, to receive medical attention for minor injuries. Detectives on-scene. All civilians uninjured and accounted for," the radio crackled out.

"Well," I sighed, "At least that's over now."

"Yep," MacFinn said. "I don't know about you, but I just want to heat up some pizza and watch stupid movies. Any ideas?"

It was a tradition of ours, that after an event that hit too close to home, we would eat whatever we wanted and watch the dumbest movie that was on TV. We would make fun of and criticize the actors, and downright yell at them when they ignored the easiest, more obvious solution.

"What about an old-fashioned horror-movie?" I asked. "I've always wanted to see if the actors were as stupid as other people make them out to be."

"Exactly," MacFinn said, and it looked to me like he was just a little less twitchy. "I mean, of course, a masked man with a chainsaw is going to be a shock for anyone, but just standing there and letting him murder you? Honestly, what happened to fight or flight? 'Hey, look right there, there's a plank of wood not five feet from you with your name on it! How about hitting him in the face? Or smacking the chainsaw out of his hands?'" MacFinn said to a non-existent actor.

"You know," I added helpfully, "Some of the victims are cops. What happened to their taser? Or their gun? Self-defense, people!"

MacFinn laughed, and I counted that as a small triumph.

We spent the rest of the ride in comfortable silence until we pulled up to the station.

"Come on," MacFinn said, getting out and opening the door for me. "I have to end my shift."

"You worked at a desk? Don't they usually have you out on patrol?" I asked as I stepped out into the bright sunlight.

"Yeah, but we were short-handed. Collins' wife's having her baby, and he wanted to be there, and Willock's at a funeral," he said. "But then that call came in, and all available men had to go. Including me. When I heard that it was your school..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I was worried."

"Ye of little faith," I said, climbing out and walking with him. "Why were you worried? You were the one who taught me what to do in an active gunman situation."

"And when have you ever listened to me down to the letter?" MacFinn asked, not expecting an answer.

The truth was, I didn't have one anyway.

We entered the building and as we neared the visitors' desk I looked up at MacFinn, asking him a silent question. Was I going into the back room with him?

"Yeah, you probably should come with me," he said, getting out his key and unlocking the door. "People'll wonder why you're by yourself. Even more when I walk out with you."

"It'll also give you a good reason to leave, other than it's the end of your shift and you hate doing paperwork," I added. "You were so worried about me with the shooter and now you just want to go home and make sure I'm alright."

MacFinn gave me a flat look as we stepped through the doorway. "I highly doubt that Chief Halm will believe that,"  he said. "However, he will believe that I've had a long day, and I want to go home like any normal person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Wince* This was when I had no idea what to do next with the story. It didn't feel complete, and this was basically 1200 words of \\_(-_-)_/. Forgive my horrible symbol face. If I used asterisks, then it was terrifying. In the next chapter, I threw in some stuff that would allow for actual events to happen. 
> 
> See ya!
> 
> P.S.: Dang, I really wanted to have a better sign-off. I guess its growing on me.


	6. The Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenia gets inside the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOU IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER SO FAR

Louis "Lou" Halm was a solidly built man in his mid-forties with a small spray of silver at his temples that contrasted with his dark hair and skin. The silver most likely came from the stress of his job, Police Chief of Anweal, the decently-sized coastal city that I lived in. There was mutual respect between us, him because he trusted in my skills, and me because I trusted in his good intentions for the common people.

Lou was at his desk talking with a man in a suit. That alone tipped me off that something was going on. Lou never just sits at his desk. He would pace by it, lean on it, type on an average of four different electrical devices at it (phone, laptop, desktop, and occasionally a typewriter), but never had he just sat and talked with someone.

Much less someone in an expensive suit.

The man in the said expensive suit had his back to us, but I could tell that he seemed either angry or agitated, gesturing with his hands and fidgeting. Lou just calmly looked on and replied to whatever they were talking about.

I caught his eye and arched an eyebrow at him, and he gave me a smile so small you needed a microscope to see it. He excused himself from the conversation and walked over to us, concern lightly sprinkled on his broad and open face.

"Hey, Kenia, you alright?" he asked. "I heard what happened at your school. Let me guess: you 'handled' it?"

Lou was one of the people who knew what I was, and the role that I had in some of their cases, whether it be evidence in a plastic baggie left on their doorstep or the perpetrator left unconscious in a holding cell in the middle of the night.

He was also the one who dubbed me the 'Ghost of Policemen Aid', informing newbies about the untraceable help that was offered to them from time to time.

Boy, was that month a fun one until they got used to knocked-out criminals left in the middle of the night.

It got so popular that a small newspaper wanted to do a story on it. Lou and MacFinn decided to let them do it, as declining would have looked suspicious. It didn't get any bigger than that though, so it worked out in the end.

"Yep," I said, bouncing on my toes. "Gave the news vultures something to chew on, too."

Lou gaped at me. "Did you... Tell them?" he asked after a minute.

"On the contrary. I told them that I was a minor and they should buzz off," I said. "Also, you're going to catch flies if you don't pick up your jaw from the floor."     

He shut his mouth and looked at MacFinn who was trying to keep at smirk off his face for the sake of professionalism.      

"You know, she's right," said MacFinn. "They were a pain in my ass for far too long."

Lou shout him a glare. He was oddly strict about no cursing around me, even though I could make a pirate blush on a good day.

"Anyway," MacFinn said, studiously ignoring the glare, "Would it be alright if I punched out now? I just want to get home and watch the news anchors swallow their tongues in fear again."

"You can," Lou said amicably, "Just as soon as you look through some more files. I think Kenia would find them," he glanced at me. "Interesting."

"In that case," I said, "Can I wander around?"

"Don't go to the holding cells or the interrogation rooms," warned MacFinn. "It's not fair to scare people who are already scared or drunk, no matter how much fun you think it is."

"It's very fun," I said. "Fine. I won't." With that, I took off, making my rounds.

I was a common sight at the station, not because I'm a delinquent, but because I liked to do the small jobs at the station, like finding a file or guarding someone's sandwich from other officers. Occasionally, someone gave me some money to go buy them a coffee and let me keep the change.

Some called out greetings to me, others even walking over, asking if I or Mela was hurt.  

I assured them that no one was hurt, cracked a few jokes, picked up a coffee, and unstuck a file drawer. Best of all, someone left me a pack of gummy worms.

I was in the break room and guarding Lou's ham sandwich, munching on my gummy worms when someone called out.  

"Hey, Mini-Cop!"

That nickname was Lou's fault. He called me that once, I repeat, once, and it stuck like someone used duct tape, superglue, and a freaking nail gun.

If it was accurate, I don't know. But I guess since I could keep up with one, maybe.

I turned around to see Leo Radolm, one of the younger men on the force speed-walking toward me. He never ran. Supposedly, it was because he swore never to run again after participating on the track team in college. I just think he never has an opportune moment, at least not without running into anyone.

"For the love of God, Radolm, don't call me that," I said. Despite the harsh words, there was a smile on my face. Leo Radolm was a kind man, who could sense bullshit about a mile away, but was always willing to partake in my sometimes-questionable ideas, like roof-sledding.

There were no broken bones, okay? So in my mind, it was genius.

"Sure, Mini-Cop," he said. I glowered at him, but he remained resolutely unashamed.

"Hey, MacFinn is looking for you," Radolm said, finally getting to the point. "He looks like someone ran over his puppy, too. I think you should hurry."

"This better not be a trick just so you can eat Chief's ham sandwich," I said. I was better than that.

"No, I'm serious. You know I'm a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the doorframe. It was true. Radolm's ability to sense bullshit made him horrible at saying it.

I looked at him suspiciously for a moment more and then relented. "Okay," I said, handing him one of my precious gummy worms. "Thanks for telling me."

Radolm looked as if he would explode with delight. I never, ever, share my gummy worms.

"I better go," I said, standing up and stuffing the still half-full bag in my hoodie's pocket. "Don't do anything stupid without me!"

Radolm was still frozen, staring at the gummy worm as if it was made from gold. I walked past him and back out into the desk work area, where Lou was standing with MacFinn. MacFinn was tapping his foot in impatience, and Lou was looking faintly amused.

"Kenia! There you are!" MacFinn said as soon as he saw me. "Oh man, who gave you gummy worms?" Something was off. He was back to being twitchy again and had a white-knuckle grip on his keys.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "They were on a bench with a sticky note with my name on it. It seemed like the logical assumption. And you may not have any."

MacFinn rolled his eyes, and then they widened again as a muffled shriek came from the direction of the break room.

Ah. It seemed Radolm had finally unfrozen.

"What-" MacFinn began, starting to turn to the direction of the shriek. I hurriedly cut him off.

"Uh... That was my fault," I said. "No one's injured!" I added quickly as MacFinn narrowed his eyes at me.

"What did you do?" asked Lou sternly. I shifted my feet, sheepish grin firmly stuck in place.

"I might have given Radolm a gummy worm," I muttered.

Both their mouths dropped open.

"What?" I asked defensively. "What did I do?"

"Man, what did Radolm do? Save your life and the world?" one of the desk cops asked. Lovely. We had an audience.

"No," I said, an evil smile fighting to show on my features. "No, all he did was tell me that MacFinn here looked like someone ran over his puppy."

Everyone either hid a smile or flat out laughed at the look of horror on MacFinn's face.

"I-I don't even have a puppy!" MacFinn spluttered out, face red as a beet.

"Maybe not," I said, grin finally breaking out on my face. "But should I tell them about that time..." I trailed off, waiting for him to get it. I wasn't that cruel.

"What time?" Oh, well. If he didn't remember it, then it was fair game. But I'd thought I give him one more chance.

"You know," I said as if I was one of the girls at school who gossipped in front of the water fountain. "That time with that stray dog you were trying to get to trust you..."

Realization finally dawned in his eyes as he realized what I was talking about.

"Don't you dare Kenia, don't you dare-" he started saying before he was cut off by Lou.

"No, now I want to hear this," Lou said gleefully if a six-foot-tall cop could ever be said to sound gleeful.

"Oh, I'm talking about that time when-"

The story I was begging to tell of when MacFinn had shed a tear or two over an old stray dog he had been trying to tame enough to rescue had been run over by a speeding car that had run a red light was interrupted when MacFinn darted over and snatched my bag of gummy worms and sprinted for his life.

Everyone's laughter died.

No one, I mean no one, touches my gummy worms.

But MacFinn made off with the whole bag.

"Oh no,"  said the same desk cop from before.

Oh no, indeed.

I sprinted after MacFinn, following the sounds of his footsteps still echoing off of the tiled floor hallways. I found my gummy worms abandoned at a corner, with a sticky note that read: I'm sorry. Please don't kill me.

Well, I had my gummy worms back, and he had apologized. I wouldn't.     

But a punch to the face would be acceptable, as long as I didn't break his nose.

I quickly thought of an even better idea. I grinned and then growled, long and low, and while it wasn't loud, I could hear footsteps start up again.

I decided to let MacFinn regret his choices just a little bit more, and then I silently padded back to the are where Lou and the desk cops were, carrying my gummy worms again.

It didn't escape my notice that when they saw the gummy worms but not MacFinn, they started to mutter among themselves.

"Relax," I said in response to the mutters. "He's not dead. He doesn't know where I am, though. No one can tell him where I am."

Everyone grinned, figuring out my plan.

I took a seat on the bench right by the door that I knew MacFinn would have to walk through to get back to the front of the building. When the door would swing open, the bench would be blocked from sight, as well as me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lord, these summaries. God have mercy on me. 
> 
> Where this chapter ends, I thought I had run out of steam for this story. This was even before I made my account on this site. This story sat for six months before I touched it again. It marinated in the creative soup that is my brain, and hopefully, it is all the more flavorful for it. 
> 
> See ya!


	7. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a domino effect. Things are being put into motion. But by who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain just took this story arc and RAN with it.

I heard footsteps approaching first and then motioned for silence as I saw the others start to hear them as well.

Lou was trying valiantly to not die of laughter as everyone’s eyes went to the door and waited expectantly. The door creaked open slowly, and everyone leaned forward, ready to howl with laughter.

They blinked in surprise as a woman with dark hair and a truly impressive scowl entered the room.

“Where is Chief Louis Halm?” she snapped.

I instinctively shrunk away from her. I was a person who regularly charged into gunman situations whilst singing turn of the century pop songs, but I did not want to be noticed by her. She was sending out waves of being ready to spit nails and breathe fire. I silently commended Lou for his bravery when he stood up with a friendly smile.

“That’s me, ma’am,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“You’ll need to come with me,” she said in a voice that was permafrost. “We need to ask you a few questions about what happened earlier today.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lou asked. “And if you watched the news, you would know what happened. Gunman showed up. Kids did the standard emergency procedure. We show up. Gunman in custody. Straightforward, really.” Lou didn’t take bull.

“We’re your superiors,” the woman said. “And I think you and I both know that isn’t what all happened at that school. After all, Anweal has the only high school where students actively flip off the person who is holding them at gunpoint." She pursed her lips, pressing them into a thin line. She must have seen the security camera footage, because she sure as shit wasn't in the building. "Again, I must insist that you come with me.”

Lou was covering for me, I realized. What I had going for me here was good: just helping out, small-time crimes, the occasional murder. But this was bigger than that.

I’ve read comic books before, just to enjoy the irony of it. I was sure at the time that there was no General Ross, no Obadiah Stane in the real world. But now I was faced with the possibility that I would be weaponized. Some government’s personal guard dog, to be leashed and muzzled.

Oh hell no.

Bless him, Lou still tried. “Ma’am, while I understand your need, I also have to work through what happened at the high school as well,” he said. “There were more than fifty officers at the location, and each of them has a report that I need to read. Thank God that these things don’t happen often, but when they do, it’s a very important matter, with a mountain of paperwork to go through. I will answer your questions, but as of now, I need to tend to my own business.”

Man, I didn’t know Lou was good at the political two-step.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say what I could quite clearly see in her eyes. She didn’t buy it.

“Very well,” she said crisply. “How about tomorrow, two o’clock?”

“That would be fine,” Lou said. "That'll be my lunch break, so I'll be waiting outside that little restaurant about a block from here." He smiled at her.

Her eyes narrowed again before flashing to his hands. She saw his wedding band and relaxed fractionally. What the hell did she think? That Lou was flirting with her?

"That would be agreeable," she said.

Lou nodded. “Until then, Ms…?”

“Alshed. Ms. Alshed,” she said. Nothing about her face changed, except that I could tell that she was slightly embarrassed that she hadn’t provided her name at the beginning.

“A pleasure,” Lou said. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ll see myself out.”

With that, she walked out the door that led to the lobby, heels clicking like a clock.

“Shit,” Lou said, sitting down and rubbing his forehead. “I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. I knew they were onto you, Kenia.”

That alone was enough to raise the other officers’ concern, more than the man in the expensive suit and the woman in heels that looked like death-traps. Lou never swore. It went so far as to ‘flipping heck’.

Speaking of said man in the expensive suit, he was nowhere to be seen. I could only assume that he was with Ms. Alshed, and took his leave along with her.

Radolm burst into the room, actually running.

Well, I guess Loki’s broken free from his chains and Hell froze over because that’s everything else we needed for the end of the world.

“Chief,” Radolm gasped out, “MacFinn’s gone!”

Oh. Add another dash to the ‘It’s the Apocalypse!’ board.

“What?” asked Lou, confused. “You mean like he left to avoid Kenia, or died, or was kidnapped or something?”

I tensed. God forbid that ever happens. I stood up from my place behind the door and crossed the room over to Lou.

“That last one. Sort of,” Radolm said, looking at me. “Kenia, were you behind that door the whole time?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said shortly. “Explain.”

“Good, good, that’s great,” Radolm said. “Did a woman in insanely high heels come through here?” he asked Lou.

“Yes, she did,” said Lou slowly. “Said her name was Ms. Alshed. Is she the one that took MacFinn?” he asked, with a note of panicked urgency in his voice now.

Radolm nodded.

“Okay, the board is tallied up, and we’re at the level of ‘the hell is going on?’” one of the desk workers asked. “What’s up with Kenia? Where is MacFinn? And where did this ‘Ms. Alshed’ go?”

I looked at Lou, then at the worker.

“I need to talk to Lou for a moment,” I said. “Excuse us.”

I dragged Lou into the break room and looked him in the eye. “They can know,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Lou asked. “Shouldn’t you speak with MacFinn before you tell them?”

“Normally, yes,” I said. “But he’s not here, and you’re basically the next in line for secret-keeping. They need to know. I trust them enough with this. They know me well enough to not go for the handcuffs. Actually, they already know most of what I do.”

“Just not that when you do it, you have fur and a tail,” Lou said. “But I get it. MacFinn is one of my best officers, and more importantly, one of my best friends. He’s also important to you. So I’m guessing that…”

“I could cheerfully use her as a scratching post,” I growled.

“I figured as much,” said Lou. “Where do you want to do this?” he asked.

“My fancy reveal? Not out there,” I said. “Windows provide anyone who’s curious enough with a prize view of me going black.” ‘Going black’ was a term for my shifts. I’d nixed ‘going fluffy’ and ‘claws out’. “No thanks. I’d prefer to do it here. It’s going to be a tight fit, but it’ll work.”

“Alright,” Lou said. “I’ll get everyone in here. You’ll have to make it quick. Somebody’s bound to notice everybody going into the break room at once.”

“Go get them,” I said.

As Lou started to head out, I called to him.

“Lou,” I said, “This is going to change everything.”

He turned around to look at me, face gravely serious.

“If MacFinn’s been taken,” he said, “It already has.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the entrance of our bad guy. Or our bad lady. I personally don't care about political correctness. Nothing really happens in chapter, now that I think about it. Like, if you were asked to provide a summary of the entire story, this would warrant a single sentence at most. 
> 
> See ya!


	8. Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole station knows. The whole station is cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short. Actually, don't take my word for anything because I'm adding stuff. Chapter 3 I think is now over 2000 words. I feel accomplished.

He disappeared for a moment to go back to the work area. Despite being out of my line of sight, I could still hear him.

“We are, in fact, at the level of ‘the hell is going on?’” said Lou. “I know that MacFinn’s gone and most of you have an inkling that something’s up with Kenia, and you’d all be right.”

I could hear his sigh as well. I could almost see the slump of his shoulders and the iron look in his eyes.

“Kenia and I have to show you something,” he said. “I think it links everything together. Scratch that, I _know_ it links everything together. I also know you’ll be shocked. I don’t want you to panic. We only have a short time. No questions, no screaming. If she wants to, she’ll explain more later. She’s in the break room.”

I could hear his footsteps start up again, and they were followed by many more. They stopped just outside the door.

“One more thing,” Lou said. “This was her own choice to show you. She trusts you. You should all recognize that.”

He opened the door, and twenty or so men and women filed into the room.

“You ready?” asked Lou.

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

I looked at all the faces in the room, looking them dead in the eye. I then looked down at my feet and shifted.

Everything in the room was thrown into a higher definition. I could smell every brand of coffee, hear every movement. I looked up at their faces and saw what I expected to see.

Amazement, shock, and blank confusion.

But what wasn’t there was anger or fear.

And that was what counted for me.

“So, uh…” one of the officers swallowed. “You can turn into a cougar.”

I nodded, because duh, I couldn’t talk, but that just seemed to freak him out.

“Oh… Okay, then,” he said.

I shifted back and their eyes widened even more if that was possible.

"You're a catamount," stammered out one man.

"Got it in one," I said.

I was a catamount. Cat of the mountain. I wasn't completely human. Hell, bananas might have more common DNA with people than me. Oh Jesus, bananas might be more human than me. I didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or cry. I looked at the floor instead.

“So you,” one woman said. “You were the one who helped with all the shootings at the school? The one who left us the evidence? As well as the knocked-out car thief?”

“Yep,” I said, still looking at the floor. “That was me.”

They looked at me silently.

“I, uh,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward. “I’m still the same person you’ve always known. You’ve known that I help out around here. You guys have seen me do stuff like this. Just not with claws and a tail.”

“That part seems pretty important,” one said. “But somehow, I believe it.”

The group of people nodded. Lou looked like he wanted to hug everyone. Maybe just because they reacted how he wanted them to, not as a keeper of the peace, but as my close friends and maybe a surrogate family would.

“This is the secret that I trust you with,” I said, my voice ringing in the now silent room. “MacFinn knew. So did Lou. And now MacFinn is gone. I need to find him. As well as this Ms. Alshed. If this is the government, then I need to do something about it.”

The people in the room started to nod.

“I need to show them that I’m not a threat. And that I’m not anybody’s to own,” I said. “This situation is out of hand. I need help. I can’t just barge into the White House and tell the president to shove off. So help me God,” I said, and gave Lou a tired smile, “I need to do things the legal way.”

“And the best way to start with that,” interjected Lou. “Is to uphold our verbal agreement with Ms. Alshed.”

“So,” I said sullenly. “We have to meet with her again?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Lou. “But as of now, Kenia, I think that I should give you a ride home.”

“I cannot,” I said, cracking my neck. “Help but to agree with you. The sooner I get home, the quicker lunch tomorrow happens. But right now, I'm pretty sure I owe you some answers.”

Radolm raised his hand tentatively.

I sighed. "Christ on a crutch, Radolm, this isn't elementary school," I said.

"Okay, then," he said. "How long have you been able to do this?"

"My entire life," I said. "I was a street rat for as early as I can remember. MacFinn found me when I was seven. I was able to shift, but it was more difficult than it is now. I was still able to give him some pretty good cuts on his arm though."

"That explains the different surnames," said another.

"O'Mallack is a variation of the surname Mallak," I said. "It's oddly accurate, as it has the double meaning of both 'noble' and 'big and soft.' Not the most awe-inspiring of last names, I didn't choose it."

"Who did, if you were on the streets in your earliest memories?" asked a woman.

"I had this old notebook with me," I said. "It had a picture of a really young me in it. Written below it was 'Kenia O'Mallack, 2004.' That was it."

"At least it's not as obvious as Remus Lupin," someone muttered.

"Alright, people," interrupted Lou. "We gotta get back to work. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves."

People started filing out of the room, until it was just me and Lou.

"I can wait until your shift is over," I said.

"Shouldn't be too long of a wait," said Lou. "I'll get some people looking for MacFinn. Social media, traffic cameras, that sort of thing."

"That's a long shot if I've ever heard one," I said.

"It's better than nothing at all," said Lou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really hard to push past 1000 words. I think at the beginning, it was only around 600 at most. I decided to throw in some of Kenia's backstory, just for kicks. Also, these summaries will still be the death of me.


	9. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenia needs a ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring conversations about Bruce Banner and songs that I like

It was practically sunset by the time me and Lou got out of the station. I walked with my head down and my shoulders hunched, for the first time feeling very small and tired.

As we walked down the steps to Lou's car, he sighed. “Kenia, I don't know about you, but I just wish that the government would keep themselves out of other people's business.”

I smirked a little. “Lou, that's what I ask myself every time I watch a superhero movie,” I said. “Leave poor Bruce Banner alone. That's all he really wants. Let him just hang around in South America, fixing things and helping people.”

“There is no need for them to go after him,” agreed Lou. “Sure, he's dangerous, but only when he gets angry. And trying to kidnap him isn't the best way to keep him calm.”

“Why haven't they ever sent someone in to just talk to him?” I asked. “Just say to him, 'hey man. What's up?’ And if Banner starts to run, because you know, 'oh shit it's the government’, they can just say, 'I'm unarmed man, chill.’”

“I've been in a few situations like that,” said Lou. “A runaway, a person on the edge of a bridge. I know what to say.”

“ What do you say?” I asked. “Like, in the case of Bruce Banner.”

Lou thought for a moment.

“I’m gonna be on the level with you: I'm from the government. But I'm not here to kill you or kidnap you. I'm here to talk,” he said. “You’ve done some pretty stupid shit, Dr. Banner. But so have I. So has everyone else on this Earth. But you're trying to make up for it, and that counts. That counts, and that makes you better than the people who do stupid shit and don't try to become better. That's why I became a police officer. To help people become better.

“You do good in this world. And if people disagree, well, then they’re wrong,” said Lou. “Not all heroes wear capes. Hell, they don't even need superpowers. All they need is the will to do good. And you have that in a great amount.”

“Dang,” I said. “You're very convincing.”

Lou shook his head. “That's not the point,” he said. “I wasn't trying to convince him of anything. I just said what I thought was true.”

“Then what do you think is true about the people who try to become better, but can't?” I asked.

“I think that their problem is that they're trying to do it all by themselves,” said Lou. “Everyone needs help at some point in their lives. It's a fact of life.”

We reached Lou’s car, and I walked around to the shotgun door and climbed in. I closed the door and looked out of the window. The sun was setting over the treeline, painting the sky in an odd shade of purple, almost.

I could see a storm front approaching on the other side of the car, the edge of the clouds bearing the mark of high winds. The treeline would look like just a black shape against the sky to a normal human, but I could just make out the pale undersides of the leaves now blowing in the wind that had kicked up just a minute ago.

It was the end of May and the temperature was showing it. Low summer thunder rumbled softly through the sky, almost too low to hear. Lou looked up at the sky and frowned, finally getting into his car as well.

Lighting flicked through the clouds on Lou's side of the car and I pointed at it.

“Cool,” I said. “Lighting is starting up.”

Lou groaned. “Now I have to take all the flowers in,” he said. Lou's wife was a gardener, and she loved her flowers like they were her own children. She couldn't have any herself, as she won against her breast cancer about a year ago with chemotherapy.

“Best get me home as quickly as possible,” I said straight-faced. “You'll want to get the tulips in before it starts to rain.”

“Shush, you,” said Lou. But he did start the car and pull out of the parking lot, so it was a win.

The thunder sounded again as we pulled out onto the road. Lou sped up to fifty-five. I raised an eyebrow.

“The speed limit is forty-five,” I said. “Shame on you.”

Lou didn't take his eyes off the road. “It's called keeping up with the speed of traffic,” he said. “As long as I'm not going stupidly fast, I'll be fine.”

But he did slow down to forty-five.

I dug out my phone and headphones from my school bag and went to turn on my music. Lou put a hand out to stop me.

“Wait,” he said. “I want to know what songs you listen to.”

I shrugged. “Alright,” I said. I put the setting on 'shuffle’, and to my horror, 'To War’ from Phineas and Ferb started playing:

_The sun blazes red o'er the convention center,_

_As red as the blood of all who enter,_

_That's pumped into the hearts through this fearless choir,_

_It's the size and shape of a fist clenched in ire_

_That's raised to the sky in faith and in duty_

_That holds that red sun in all its beauty_

_A beauty we all must ignore,_

_As we take our last steps to war,_

_Because our movie's better than yours_

“Okay, not listening to that one,” I said quickly as I saw Lou trying not to laugh. I glared at him.

“The only reason I have that song is because someone wanted the choir to sing it, but for like, Marvel and DC, or Harry Potter and Twilight,” I said. “I wanted to listen to it before I signed the petition.”

“Did the petition work?” Lou asked.

“No,” I said. “ The school board, in their infinite wisdom, ruled that it was too violent for us to sing, even though three-fourths of the school signed it. Even when we showed them the original video.”

“I hate bureaucrats,” said Lou.

I hit the ‘next’ button.

'Another Irish Drinking Song’. Oh, Lord.

“This one sounds fun,” said Lou.

“Oh, just wait,” I said.

_Gather 'round ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while,_

_And hearken to me mournful tale about the Emerald Isle,_

_Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone,_

_And lift our voices in another Irish drinking song._

Lou raised an eyebrow at me singing softly along to the song.

“Told you,” I said, smiling.

   _Consumption took me mother and me father got the pox,_

_Me brother drank the whiskey 'till he wound up in a box,_

_Me other brother in the troubles met with his demise,_

_Me sister has forever closed her smilin’ Irish eyes._

“I have no words,” said Lou.

“Oh, just wait. It gets better,” I promised.

The song went on for a while more.

   _Tom Murphy fought with Riley near the cliffs of Alderney,_

_He took out his shillelagh and he stabbed him in the spleen_

_When crazy Uncle Mike thought he was a leprechaun,_

_But in fact he's just a leper, and his arms and legs are gone._

_When Timmy Johnson broke his neck, it was a crying shame,_

_He wasn't really Irish, but he went to Notre Dame._

_MacNamara crossed the street and by a bus was hit,_

_But he was just a Scotsman, so nobody gave a- ACH_

“I'm starting to regret this,” said Lou. “What's next?”

I hit the button again and ‘Playing For Keeps’ by Elle King popped up.

“I don't know how you'll react to this one,” I said as I pressed play.

_You prayed to have your name scattered on the lips of the young_

_Now you claim it's you who's on the tip of their tongues_

_And if you're around of what you had to kill to get your thrill, well,_

_I bet it stings to give up everything and realize that they don't want you_

“Well?” I asked.

“Keep playing it,” said Lou. “I'm not sure yet.”

   _It's a lonely road, where the forgotten go,_

_Where your misery finds its company, woah oh-oh-oh,_

_It's a long way down, to the sacred ground,_

_Where the reapers play for keeps_

“I kinda like it,” said Lou. “It's almost like a warning.”

“That's why I like it,” I said. “I listen to it before I go into a hostage situation. I know what to say to them to try to make the person let them go.”

I let the song keep playing.

_That hollow sound is ringing where your heart used to be,_

_Have you found, their admiration will never set you free,_

_Get your lies prepared, you're next in line for judgment day now,_

_Aren't you praying, aren't you begging that you're anyone else?_

“Like I said,” I say. “A warning. Next song?”

“Sure.”

The next one was 'Mean’ by Taylor Swift.

   _You, with your words like knives_

_And swords and weapons that you use against me_

_You, have knocked me off my feet again,_

_Got me feeling like a nothing_

_You, with your voice like nails_

_On a chalkboard, calling me out when I'm wounded_

_You, picking on the weaker man_

_You can take me down_

_With just one single blow_

_But you don't know what you don't know_

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol’ city_

_And all you'll ever gonna be is mean_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

_And all you'll ever gonna be is mean_

“I don't know why, but I like it,” said Lou.

“Of course you like it,” I said. “It's anti-bullying. You're a cop.”

“Shuddup,” said Lou, grinning.

The rest of the ride was spent trading quips and good-natured insults back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner, along with Batman, is one of my favorite superheroes. Yeah, I know, they're from different universes, and you're only supposed to like one or the other, but mcfreaking sue me. I will be the first to admit that I know more about Marvel than DC, but I do like both of them. They both have great storylines, characters, art, and writing. It just... the movies... gah. So I stick to the comics when it comes to DC. 
> 
> As for all the songs, I basically wanted to stall for time. I wanted to show Lou's dynamic with Kenia, and while I don't think I did it all that well, I was able to explore Lou's character a little bit. 
> 
> See ya!


	10. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm breaks and Kenia just might join it in doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I owe some explanations. But, since I'm a coward, I'll put them in the endnotes. Thanks a bunch. For your trouble that I unwittingly put you through, have almost four thousand words.

But the little bubble of something that at least resembled normal popped when Lou rolled up to the house that I shared with MacFinn. 

The dark storm clouds that I had seen on the horizon were now directly overhead. The wind whipped around me, yanking on the branches of the trees that we're spotted around the house. Thunder was now rumbling constantly and I could see lightning licking through the iron clouds. 

During the car ride, I had watched those clouds, noting the top area billowing into the sky. Some of them must have been cumulus clouds. The top part had started to get shaped into an anvil and I knew that one motherload of a storm was coming. 

Lou turned off the car. “Here we are,” he said, looking down at the steering wheel. “I trust you have a key?”

I nodded and held up my keychain. “I'll be alright,” I said. “We won't have school tomorrow. It won’t be a month missed like the first time, but it’ll at least be tomorrow. I'll survive.”

Lou nodded, and he unlocked his car’s doors. But when I reached for the door handle, Lou stopped me. “Why don't you come into the station tomorrow?” he asked. “I would feel better knowing where you are, and I want you to come with me to lunch. Not officially, of course. You'll be out of sight, but still within earshot of us."

“I guess,” I said. “I can come and go as I please, right? Maybe hang with Mela? I won't go over a twenty block radius,” I added, seeing Lou's face shift with worry. 

“Sure, as long as her parents are okay with that,” said Lou. 

“They'll be fine with it,” I said dismissively. “They'll probably be glad that she's hanging around a beacon of justice and law.”

“Alright,” said Lou as I climbed out of the car. “You should make sure all the windows are closed. Don't want anything to get wet.”

I laughed a little. “And you should get home to make sure that the daisies don't drown,” I said. He still looked a little doubtful. “Go! Be free!” I said, making a shooing motion at him. 

Lou chuckled one more time and rolled up the windows, started the car, and continued driving down the street, presumably to drive around the block and exit that way, rather than doing a U-turn.

I shook my head at his steadfast aversion to any possible infraction and looked at the clouds again. A bolt of lightning flashed and thunder followed immediately, no longer low, but cracking through the sky. 

I walked to the porch and dug out my house keys. I looked at the little silver crossed swords that MacFinn had given me as a keychain. I closed my eyes, sighed, and turned the key to open the door. 

The door swung open and I stepped inside. Most of the lights were off, and I flicked on the hall light as I made my way to the family room. It was towards the back of the house with a view of the backyard and the woods surrounding it. 

The windows in the dining room (where I and MacFinn ate fancy meals, such as Thanksgiving dinner with Lou, his wife, and sometimes Lou's mother) were all closed and locked, as well as the ones in the living room and the one by the kitchen. 

In the family room, the curtains were open and I could see the blackness of the clouds being threaded with lightning in the sky. The windows were closed and locked. The kitchen was right next to it, with the peninsula countertop with the bar stools separating the two spaces. 

I grabbed a granola bar on my way to the stairs and opened it. MacFinn had a rule about no food upstairs, but after I caught him eating popcorn and watching a movie in his room, he lifted that ban. 

The windows in his room were closed. I didn't bother checking if they were locked. I just passed in, silent as a ghost, and shut the vents. 

I told myself that it would just mean more air conditioning to my room. I stayed away from the thought that circulating air would have washed the traces of MacFinn away from the air. 

I walked back down the hall, shutting the one window in the bathroom that was linked to MacFinn's room. I finally turned to go to my room.

My room also had a view of the backyard. I could also feel that the wind had kicked up, blowing errant papers around my already chaotic room. It wasn’t so messy that I couldn’t find anything, but it at least looked like someone lived there. 

I went over to the window by my bed and took the window fan out. It got insanely hot in my room without it, but if I left it in, the rain would be blown in. I left the window open as it wasn’t raining yet, and I looked at the contrast of the trees to the sky. I dug out my phone and flicked open to the camera and snapped a picture of it. 

My phone had no selfies on it, but rather pictures of the crows and/or ravens that Mela insisted that she was followed by, sunsets that turned the sky a blazing red, and one picture of a rainbow against dark clouds. I took photos when I was struck at the time.

I noticed that there was a fricking groundhog of all things waddling around the yard, seemingly not giving a singular shit about the impending storm that was looming over its head. I took a picture of that too and sent both pictures to Mela.

 

Rawr:

Just a friggin groundhog. Nvm the impending death above it.

 

Mela responded with ten seconds. 

 

Aurum:

You think that looks bad? A tornado watch has been issued. 

A little too late, in my opinion. 

There's green sky.

 

I sucked in a breath and checked my notifications. Sure enough, there it was. Until eight-thirty. I checked the time. 7:27 in the evening. 

 

Rawr:

God, I hate this. 

Aurum:

You seem on edge

Is the storm getting to you?

Rawr:

No

MacFinn is gone

Kidnapped or something. 

Aurum:

You're shitting me.

He legit got kidnapped?

Rawr:

I shit you not.

Yeah that's what Lou and everyone else thinks. 

There's also this woman call Alshed. 

Ever heard of her?

Aurum:

Nope sorry

U better tell me the whole story. 

R u gonna be alright?

Do you want me to come over?

 

I smiled a little. Mela's parents were rarely home. It was most often on business trips. They were doctors, always haring off to some developing country to help with an Ebola outbreak or something. 

They weren't neglectful. On the contrary, they loved Mela. They checked in daily from wherever they were and Mela just recently had convinced them that she could stay home alone for more than a day at a time. 

 

Rawr:

Nah, I'll be okay

Wait are your parents home?

Have you heard from them?

Aurum:

Nah. They're in Egypt or something.

I legit just got off of a phone call with them.

Now, keep in mind they called me. 

It's around one in the morning there.  

And they're like, Should we come home? 

Are you ok? Is kenia alright?

Did anyone get hurt?

Rawr:

Can you blame them?

Aurum:

I guess not. 

But I've done this before and came out alright.

And I know their work is super important to them.

They just don't need to drop everything and run home. 

Rawr:

Well, that just shows that you're even more important to them.

Aurum:

Sap. 

Hey, you distracted me. 

I want to hear about what happened to MacFinn.

Rawr:

It's a long story

Aurum:

I got nothing but time.

 

So I explained the whole thing to her in text messages, her occasionally replying and asking questions. Her texting style was familiar and I smiled at her response to Alshed. 

 

Aurum:

THAT. 

GODDAMN.

BITCH. 

Rawr:

Yeah, I ain't too fond of her either.

Aurum:

Screw your Batman rule

I want her head at my feet

 

MacFinn was always adamant about me not carrying a gun when I was called in. He did, however, teach me how to disarm a man with a gun and how to not shoot myself accidentally when it was in my hand. I myself had a rule about not killing anyone. I just didn't want to take a life. No one should, really. So it added up to a Batman-esque line in the sand that Mela noticed immediately and dubbed it as such. 

 

Rawr:

And her heart on a silver platter?

Aurum:

I WANT HER HEART IN MY HAND

Rawr:

I think Lou's got first dibs.

Aurum: 

Damn his righteous ways.

I gtg I need to lock up the house

TTYL

Rawr:

See you later.

 

I shut my phone off and sat on my bed. I sighed. 

God, what the hell was I going to do? 

As much as I usually brushed days like these off, they did affect me. I probably needed to see a therapist. Mela and MacFinn were always enough for me if I needed to talk to someone, though.  I doubted that a patient privacy policy would apply to me, anyway. 

I had nothing to do. The house was locked up, all the windows were closed. I decided to text Lou. He didn't live too far away from us, so he should've gotten home by then. 

 

Rawr:

Ya home yet?

Chief:

Yeah. 

Are you doing ok?

Rawr:

Yep.

Mela's fine too. 

Her parents called her from Egypt.

Chief:

That's pretty early over there

But I'm glad to hear it.

Plants are safe too.

Rawr:

Oh, thank the Lord. 

Whatever would we do if something happened.

Chief:

Ha ha. 

Very funny.

Did you eat dinner?

 

I took a bite of my granola bar. 

 

Rawr:

Yep.

Chief:

A granola bar doesn't count.

Rawr:

And you say I'm the one with freaky powers. 

Psychic.

Chief:

Eat a sandwich or something. 

Speaking of eating, my wife is asking me to set the table. 

She's glad you're both okay.

Rawr:

I'll make it ham, just for you.

Go and help her.

Chief:

You're too kind.

See you tomorrow.

Rawr:

Bye Lou. 

 

I sighed again. I was frustrated at what little I could do at this point in time. 

I decided to take Lou's advice and went downstairs to make a sandwich. I won't bore you with the details of making it, but it was delicious.

Lightning flashed as I bit into it. I really wished it would start raining. I was getting tired of the storm just looming threateningly above.  A mixture of emotions swirled in my stomach. Anger, sadness, fear, exhaustion, you name it. I got up from the barstool in front of the countertop and paced around the room. 

The boil of feelings had spread to my chest despite my best efforts to beat it back down. My breath stuttered and I realized too late that I was going to have a panic attack. I tried to breathe properly, slow it down, hold for eight, release for seven. But my body was having exactly none of that and now the walls are closing in _oh god-_

I practically lunged over to the sliding glass door that led to the deck and thus, outside. I was tempted to just break through the glass, but that was even more time-consuming than just fiddling with the lock. I pressed the latch that locked the door in place and moved the metal bar that blocked the door from sliding back on the track. I was dimly thankful for the fact that the screen door wasn't closed along with the main door because I wouldn't have wasted my time opening it. 

I got outside and just barely remembered to close the door behind me. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind and the rumble of thunder. I paid it no mind. I jumped the deck railing and rolled into the grass. I started running. I didn't care where the hell I ended up. I just needed to run.

The rain started falling, fat drops of water hitting the grass with a hiss. I slipped on the grass and shifted, now sprinting on all fours, heading into the woods. The underbrush didn't slow me down at all. I had to keep moving, running. My claws sunk into roots, my shoulders bounced off of rocks and tree trunks. 

If any creature saw me then, outlined by flashes of lightning, rain making my coat even darker with water, running through the trees like I barely had to avoid them, they would've run away as fast as they could. 

The trees started to change from the young pine saplings to ancient towers, hundreds of years old, some older than Anweal itself. The underbrush grew thicker, bushes snagging my legs, vine-like plants going dangerously close to my neck. The branches swayed and creaked angrily in the savage wind. Some snapped and fell, paying the price for the massive trees that refused to fall. I darted away from a falling limb, one that, had I not moved, could've crushed me. 

The freezing touch of adrenaline faded enough for me to realize the stupidity of my actions. How was I going to find my way back home? 

Home. Back to Mela, back to the house. Back to the empty house, because MacFinn is gone and he could be dea-

I surged forward, trying to run faster. I didn't let myself think that. If I was trying to run away from that thought, I can't remember. 

I had been lucky enough to avoid tripping in my blind rush through the forest. But my luck soon ran out and one of my paws got caught on a rock. I sprawled onto the hard dirt and got up as quickly as I could. There was no way I could get back to my original speed and I stumbled forward, slowly starting to run again. My muscles burned in protest. The dirt below my paws changed to grass again and I slipped. I was in a clearing, surrounded by huge trees. 

I didn't realize that I had shifted back until I staggered up onto two feet. I looked around me, my chest heaving with huge breaths. The lightning flickered in the sky, half hiding behind the iron clouds. The wind howled through the trees, with the branches and needles being used as vocal cords. The lightning and the wind were loud and big and somehow angry. But the rain still resolutely fell down, striking the ground. It was the ceaseless war drum for the rest of the storm. It pooled and flooded the rivers and lakes, almost like it would try and wash away the fallen branches and the crushed leaves, the innumerable casualties of the storm. 

I looked up, letting it hit my face, letting it run through my hair. 

Was it too much to hope that it would wash away sin? Was it too much to wish that fire would burn away the evil? That the earth would simply open up under the remorseless killers and just swallow them whole? 

It was. 

Because water is impartial to the actions of men. Fire doesn't discriminate between good and evil. And why should the earth care about what is equivalent to tiny ants?

Nope, humanity was on their own. We are forced to weed out our fellow man because while humans are capable of acts of grace, it is far easier to commit acts of malice.

Humans were like lightning, I realized. Bright and quick and always moving forward on the path of least resistance. Always followed by a clap of thunder, by the crash of consequences of their actions. Whether it be the ravages of a war or a breakthrough in a scientific field, it was there. 

Bright and quick and hotter than the sun, and I was half of everything that they were not. I was shadows. I wasn't sprinting forward, because I just slowly patrolled. I was an ally of the dark and cold because that was where I worked best, not the bright day and I was not like them I was not like Lou Mela Radolm MacFinn Principal Ellar-

The weight of all the differences clawed its way up my throat and sliced my tongue and hammered at my teeth to _let me out give me voice they need to know-_   

I looked up, seeing the world, alive and fresh and whole and dying and old and torn apart.

And

I

 _Screamed_. 

* * *

 

 

I don't exactly remember how I got home. I have a vague recollection of stumbling through the woods, flashes of lightning my only light. I remember my hands and feet burning and being too tired to even walk completely straight, much less shift. I remember collapsing on the carpeted floor of the family room, the thunder still audible even as my vision faded to black. 

I woke up and promptly groaned. I felt a little like death warmed over. Other than that, I felt a finger poking the middle of my forehead. I cracked my eyes open and immediately regretted it. The light seemed to have decided that my eyes were the bane of its existence and must be destroyed at all costs. 

"Kenia," a voice was saying. It sounded familiar. "Kenia, wake up, dammit, or I'm calling the freaking ambulance."

I cracked my eyes open again, and this time, I was able to make out the face of a very worried-looking Mela. I groaned again and sat up, almost knocking our heads together. I was on the floor of the family room, still wearing my slightly-damp clothes from yesterday. 

Mela leaned back with a relieved sigh. "Now that I know you're not in a coma," she said and narrowed her eyes at me. "Want to explain what the _fresh hell_ happened to you?" 

I shifted into a more dignified cross-legged position. I rubbed my eyes, as they still felt like they were being boiled alive. "Panic attack," I muttered. "I ran."

Mela lifted an eyebrow. "You ran? Outside? In the freaking maelstrom that was the storm last night?" She grabbed my arm. "Kenia, what the hell were you thinking? You could've called me! You could've called Lou! Anyone! And we would've dropped damn near everything and helped you!"

I looked at her steadily. I didn't blame her for her reaction. If it had been her, I would've been saying the same things. 

She slumped a little. "Kenia, what you told me last night, it sounds like you have people after you," she said in a much quieter voice. "I don't want you to get killed. Just..." She sighed. "Just what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that the walls were closing in on me," I said just as quietly. "I was thinking that I had to run, and whatever the hell was chasing me could follow me into the goddamned pits of Hell. Wherever the hell I ended up, it was away from you. Away from Lou and the station. I ran away from it, to both lead it on and escape."

Mela looked down. "And then what?"

"I realized that it would do neither because it was in me, like my lungs or my heart and it would stay there, and no matter where I went it would follow me around like a freaking ball and chain," I said. "And it was the half of me that is everything you aren't."

Mela sighed and looked up again. "Just because you can turn into a mountain lion doesn't make you less of a person, Kenia," she said. Her phone buzzed multiple times. 

She sighed again, but this time, it was more like a sigh of annoyance. "Lou has been texting me all morning," she said. "He got worried when you wouldn't answer any of his messages." The phone buzzed again. Mela glared. "Oh my God, can he be any more impatient?"

I blinked. "Wait, what time is it?" How long had I been passed out?

Mela checked her phone's screen. "It's a little before 11:30," she said. Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. "Goddamnit, Chief!"

She tapped to accept the call and put on speakerphone. She cut Lou off before he could get in a single word. "Louis William Halm, so help me God," she said. "Have you not a single ounce of patience in you?"

"That's not my middle name-" he began. Mela cut him off again. 

"I don't give a single fried cheese biscuit about your middle name, Chief," Mela said. "Kenia's fine. Say hi, Kenia." She thrust the phone in my direction. 

I tried not to laugh and only failed a little. "'Fried cheese biscuit?'" I asked, only chuckling a little. 

Lou's sigh of relief was audible. "Oh, thank God, you're okay," he said. "I was getting worried."

"The sixty-seven texts and the thirty-four calls can attest to that," Mela said dryly. "We'll be out and around the station by noon, Lou," she said. "We're not going to be too obvious, but we'll make sure someone sees us."

"Sorry about that," Lou said sheepishly. "I'll have the front desk keep an eye out for you two."

"See you then, Lou," I called as Mela hung up. 

Mela grunted as she pulled me up to my feet. "If we're going to be out there by noon, we'll have to take our bikes, she said. "We can drop them off at a bike rack and walk around later."

I nodded with a faint smile. "Maybe do some window shopping," I said. "Because I'm broke."

Mela laughed a little. "Same," she said. "But first, you're going to change into clean clothes, because you, my friend, are grimy." I looked down. Leaves plastered my shirt and legs. My hair probably looked like I took a pitchfork to it. I winced.  

"Brushing my hair isn't going to be any fun," I muttered darkly. 

Mela laughed again. "Just put it in a ponytail," she said. "Maybe use two hair bands, though. If you use one, it might just break." 

"Hey!" I protested, pushing her shoulder. 

"I call 'em how I see 'em," Mela said. "Now go!" 

I glared at her but still went up the stairs to change. Her laughter followed me up, followed by a curse. 

"Dammit, Chief! Stop texting me!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Let me just preface this by saying that I'm sorry. Really, I am. And you guys did not deserve my antics. You guys are legit amazing. 
> 
> You may have noticed that I deleted the original Chapter Ten. I just didn't like where it was going and I had to force myself to keep writing on that line. I realized that, hey, I'm the author, I can do what I want. So I deleted all 2500-ish words that I had and started anew. This is the result of that decision, and I think that it was better for this story. 
> 
> I didn't know exactly how to end this, so sorry if it seems a little choppy. But hey! Almost 4000 words! This could be called an actual chapter in a real book! Don't get used to the length though. We'll be back to your regularly scheduled 1000 to 2000 words soon enough. I promise that every chapter will be over 1000 words. I'm trying to set goals. Progress, people!
> 
> I can't thank you guys enough for your patience. The fact that the view count goes up, even if it's just by a couple of points, means the world to me. The next chapter should be up soon. I'm trying a non-linear style of writing. So I'll write one part, and then jump forward in the story to write another part. It's really been helpful for me, in terms of actually progressing the story. I just matched two very big parts up with this chapter, so more is on the way!
> 
> See ya! (Hopefully soon!)


	11. The Chase (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alshed makes a bold move. This time, Kenia might have collateral damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Part 1 of 2. Or 3. I'm not quite sure yet. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Mela and I were walking around town, just talking. Not about MacFinn's disappearance, not about the shootings. We were just talking about different things. 

Complaints about annoying people, jokes, stories, and theories about different fictional people. Anything, really. 

And that was what was great about Mela. Sometimes she knew that I needed to stay away from something for a while.

I was finishing my dissertation on why Marvel had butchered the original Norse mythology when I realized we were being followed. 

"Mela," I said in a conversational tone. "Don't look around."

Mela was also great for being the most subtle teenager I knew. 

"And why would that be?" she asked in the same tone of voice.

"We're being tailed by a black sedan," I said. "I can't even figure out what brand it is. License plate could be from this anywhere, it's not on the front of the car, though."

"Sounds suspicious," she agreed casually. "What do we do?" 

"We don't go home," I said. "I'm thinking of the rules for stalking because there isn't exactly a hand-made guide for this. I think."

"All right," she said. "Isn't there also something about going somewhere with people?"

"Go somewhere with a crowd," I said. "It's easier to lose someone. The problem is the fact that I think they're not a regular stalker. Crowds won't stop them."

"Do you think it's Alshed?" Mela asked. "She wouldn't go for you now, would she? She has that meeting with Lou, right?" 

"She might be offering Lou MacFinn in exchange for information about me," I said. "She doesn't know that Lou has me listening in. If I don't show up, Lou will be suspicious. Hell, they might take you, too." 

"Wonderful," said Mela. "Does she know what you are? She already saw the security camera footage from yesterday."

"There aren't any cameras in the classrooms," I said. "Only the hallways, cafeteria, gym, and outside are covered. I shifted in a classroom, dragged him in the halls as a human, which was a pain, and then shifted in a blind spot and then went outside."

"So she shouldn't know," said Mela. 

"If she does, I'm screwed," I said. 

"Okay," said Mela. "What else do we do?"

I smiled grimly. "We walk in a circle," I said. "That's how you know for sure. And then we hopefully run into some friends and walk together in a big group."

"People don't usually drive in a circle," realized Mela. "And there's strength in numbers."

"Bingo," I said. "Turn right." 

We turned the corner. I kept an eye on the car from a store's window, and after a second, I saw the car make the turn as well. 

"Do you see anyone we know?" I asked Mela. 

In response, she grabbed my arm and hurried over to a trio of boys. I recognized them as Jack Emford, who was the boy with the Skittles (and oh God, was that really just a day ago?) Liam Scolt, who was good with computers and preferred the name James, for some reason, and Brandon Jameson, who had conceived some of the greatest plans I had ever seen. 

The five of us and a few other people once pulled off a prank and all got into trouble for it. Brandon was locked down in his house. He couldn't go to the bus stop for school unsupervised. But along with that prank, we also had a plan for a young college graduate. Her boyfriend, who had enlisted in the military, was coming home for Christmas. He wanted it to be a surprise, as well as proposing to her and enlisted us to help. 

It was one of our riskier operations, as it required us to sneak into the house without her knowing. It wasn't illegal, strictly speaking, because we had the boyfriend's permission. He gave us the codes to the alarms on the house. But we were staying up to ungodly hours of the morning on Christmas Eve and we knew none of our guardians would allow it. 

Brandon was the only one confined completely to his house, so we could visit him and reset the plan. We could all sneak out of our rooms, but Brandon's locks had been changed. It was the angriest his parents had ever been. So his house's attic, whose door was located in Brandon's bedroom, became command center, with him patched into our cameras and radios. He directed us through the plan with minimum mishaps, and we were able to pull the whole thing off with minutes to spare. 

The only problem we had was the boyfriend there too. He tried his best to stay quiet, but he was big and heavy and uncoordinated. In the end, we just told him to sit down before he knocked the tree over. 

We got back to our houses around five in the morning after dropping all our gear off that Brandon's house. We knew our plan was successful when the boyfriend (now fiance), sent Brandon a text saying 'She said yes!' as well as the video.

Of course, we were busted a week later when Brandon's parents found the video feeds from our cameras on Christmas Eve. Pretty soon, all our guardians knew and the boyfriend was called. He said that it was his idea and would take the blame. It wasn't as if they could ground him, so they wanted to fine him. For what, I had no idea. But we objected and showed the video of the proposal as evidence of our action being for good. We actually got off the hook for that one. 

I shook myself back to the present as we reached the boys. They turned around as Mela called their names and their eyes widened in shock when they saw me. 

"Hey Mela," said James, a little confused. "What brings you here?"

"No time, just walk with us," she said. She kept walking and the three joined us. 

"What's going on?" Jack asked. 

"Do not look behind you," I said. "We're being followed by a black sedan. It's a long story."

"It has to do with yesterday, doesn't it?" Brandon said.

"Yeah," said Mela. "Turn right."

Our group turned right, and so did the car. 

"That's two turns," said Mela. 

"Three, actually," I said. "I've had my eye on it for a while."

"One more turn makes a full circle," said James. "Standard way to see if you're being followed."

"Yes," I said. "Are your bikes around here?"

"Two streets over if we're going right again," said Jack. 

"That makes things easier," I said. "Our bikes are there too."

"We should be acting natural, right?" Brandon asked. "I'm going to play music. Any requests?" 

"Not rap," Mela and I said. 

"Please, as if I even had that on my phone," said Brandon. He looked down at his phone and tapped a few times. Ragtime piano started playing out of his phone. James, who was grinning, took an old-fashioned fedora out from his backpack and put it on his head. Almost like it was practiced, Jack spun Mela into a dip. 

Of course, she punched him right after, so it probably wasn't. 

We drew some attention on the street, as any group playing ragtime music would. But it looked good, and our little group got a few laughs and clapping. 

"I'm gonna take a calculated risk," he said. He walked ahead a little bit and started walking backward with his arms half-spread and a grin on his face. It looked rather convincing, but a practiced eye (mine) could see that He dropped back into the group and started walking normally again. 

"The car is a 2019 Cadillac Escalade," he said. "Luxury car. Looks very nice." 

We turned right one last time. The car did too. 

"Shit," swore Jack. 

"Walk faster," I said. "Just a little bit. We have to get to the bikes." 

We moved faster. I realized that our bikes had locks on them and we were sitting ducks while we fiddled with them. The rest of the plan to not run was shot to hell when a second car joined to first.

"Hey, guys?" James asked, smiling a little, trying to look innocent. "There's a second car." 

"On it," I said. I threw caution to the wind. "Screw it, guys. Run for your bikes."

We all started sprinting, avoiding passing cars as best as we could. A lot of horns blared, but no one got hit by anything. I glanced back behind me and saw that the Cadillac was slowed down by the traffic. 

I started pulling ahead and drew level with Brandon. I was trying to limit myself a little because it was a bit hard to explain why you were overtaking the highschool's 100 meters sprint champ. "Come on guys, let's go!" I urged. "Run like the Devil himself is after you!"

"Don't you have your cougar friend?" Brandon puffed. "Can't you call him or whatever you did yesterday? Do you have a cougar whistle?"

"I thought you were with Mela yesterday!" I said. "Nevermind, you'll find out later. And no, who the hell has a cougar whistle?!"

"I thought you did!" 

I could see our bikes up ahead and we unlocked them in less than five seconds. I kicked my bike into gear and started pedaling in the direction of Thornbranch. 

"Where are we going?" Brandon called. 

I thought quickly. The boardwalk was out, completely. Too many people that might get hurt and bikes weren't allowed on after ten in the morning. The beach would be useless. Again, the people issue and the fact that running on a beach is in no way a good idea. That left me two options: Thornbranch or Trillhalt.

"Thornbranch!" I yelled. "We can lose them in the trees!"

Thornbranch was one of two parks that were frequented by our area. It wasn't anywhere near as big as New York's Central Park, but it was also one of the more thickly wooded areas. It also had miles and miles of trails that twisted and turned back around on each other. Occasionally, I would be enlisted to track down some poor soul who got lost in there.

Trillhalt was the other park. It was bigger, with less wooded trails, but with sports fields and a small playground. It still had a decent amount of forest, though. The weird thing about the two was that they were either a half-hour drive away or so close you could ride your bike there and back in the space of ten minutes. There was no in-between. 

Fortunately for us, Thornbranch fell into the latter category. We all caught up to each other, riding in the designated bike lane on the sidewalk. 

"Are we taking a shortcut?" Jack asked. 

"Stick to the streets," I said. "Traffic will slow them down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this ends abruptly, and that's because I didn't want another 4000-word chapter. I am also impatient, so when I saw the view count go up by one, I decided to post. 
> 
> If you haven't re-read the other chapters, I have added endnotes to all of them. They aren't really necessary to read, but it would be nice if you did. 
> 
> See ya!


	12. The Chase (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha hi sorry, guys, I got swamped with homework. Anyway, enjoy!

I could hear Mela whispering the Lord's Prayer under her breath. She usually did it when we were in danger, with a mix of profanity added in. There was not one single swear word in there, so I knew it meant she was serious. 

Brandon's ragtime music was still playing and it was even more absurd than yesterday with the gunman. 

"Brandon!" James called. "What version is that?" 

"First result on YouTube!" Brandon yelled back. 

James' phone started playing the same song in sync with Brandon.  

Mela and Jack laughed. 

I looked over at them. "What is so funny about this situation?"

"We are fleeing the – the fricking CIA or something, on bikes, with one of us wearing a fedora, to ragtime piano!" Jack said. "This is ridiculous!"

"Maybe it is, but we have a hard turn left in about five seconds!" Brandon said. 

We pulled our handlebars to the left and entered the park. I pulled ahead of the group.

"Follow me!" I called. I rode onto one of the paths that led into the woods and checked behind me. Four bikes followed me. I could see the two cars pull into the parking lot just as it was obscured by the branches. 

We rode on for five more minutes, getting deep into the forest. We slowed to a stop and rested for a minute. The ragtime music had stopped as soon as we reached the park and the forest was silent except for the birds and bugs. 

"We didn't lose them," panted James. "Not by a long shot."

"We're going off-road," Mela said. "Hide your bike. Don't leave a trail." 

We shoved our bikes into some bushes and started walking through the forest, being careful to walk on flat rocks and avoiding breaking branches. Mela led the way, heading to the river. 

"They're probably gonna have dogs," Brandon pointed out. "They're going to find us."

Just then, we arrived at the river. It was swollen with floodwater from last night's storm, and if we wanted to go in it at all, we would have to stick close to the edges.  "Not if we go through this," I said. "Which way should we go?"

"Upstream is the bridge," said Jack. "They could be waiting at it. Let's go downstream."

I shrugged. It didn't seem like anyone disagreed. "Downstream it is, then."

The water was surprisingly not that cold. It was, however, quick-moving, and the rocks were slippery at best. We all slipped at least once, because wearing flip-flops is apparently _not_ a good idea while shin-deep in flowing water.

"This river goes near Trillhalt," said Mela. "The police station is practically next door. We'll be safe there."

"How the hell do you know that?" James demanded, red hair damp. "How the _actual hell_ do you know that? The cops probably sold you two out!"

"Considering the people who are after us kidnapped one of their best officers, I don't think they're seeing eye to eye on this," I said. "Chief's gunning for their blood."

"Well, in that case, why didn't you say so?" Jack said. "I have no plans to get captured and interrogated by the CIA."

We kept walking, or rather, sloshing through the water for another ten minutes or so, when I heard very faintly, the sound of barking dogs in the distance. 

It was carried to my ears on the wind, and I wasn't too concerned, as my hearing was already marginally better than a regular person's. 

"They got the dogs," I announced. "The wind's helping us out as of now, but let's pick up the pace." 

"How do you know that?" Brandon asked. "I've heard some pretty crazy things about you, Kenia. I've taken it with a grain of salt since you're one of my main team members when it comes to pranks, but I didn't see everything that went down."

"What things have you heard? It's only been a day," I said, lifting an eyebrow. 

Brandon shook his head. "Everything from you making a deal with the Devil to you being from a universe where DC exists," he said. "I don't know what's more bullshit: you making a deal with the Devil and somehow not swindling him out of his own soul, or you being Superman's third cousin."

"I'd say the first one," said Mela. 

"Not helping," I told her. 

"So?" James asked. "Do I need to bring some garlic or what?"

"If I show you, you'll be in danger from now on," I said. "You take on that did yourself. You get killed, I'll see you wherever I end up and say 'I told you so.' You got that?”

"And my threat from earlier still stands," said Mela. "You spill, you die."

"I'll take that risk," said Jack. "Anything that gives us an excuse to use that night-vision gear again."

"Alright then," I said. 

For the second time in the space of forty-eight hours, I revealed myself to outsiders. 

Their reactions were predictable. Brandon choked and moved back a little, James stumbled and stared, and Jack just fell right over face-first into the river. He picked himself up while Mela snickered and I shifted back. 

"Do, uh, your police friends know?" Jack asked, wiping his glasses clean. 

"They do. Most of them, at least," I said. "Not everyone was in the building last night."

"The Chief knows, and that's what matters," said Mela. "We'd all be dead three times over if it wasn't for her."

"You make me blush," I said. "But that doesn't matter, because the station is just through those trees." I pointed up at the incline, where the faintest hint of black and white showed the fleet of police cars in the back.  

"Take off your sandals," said James."It'll be hell on your feet, but you won't slip and break your neck."

I, of course, just shifted and dragged myself up the hill. I emerged from the forest as a human and waited for the others. I crouched by the side of a cruiser and watched as Jack climbed up next. His flip-flops were thrown up as well. He caught one, but the other pegged him in the head. 

James' flip-flops were thrown up next, and soon after, James appeared. He and Jack crouched next to me by the cruiser. Mela's and Brandon's footwear were tossed up just as the barking of the dogs came into regular earshot. There was a lot more swearing, but Mela and Brandon climbed up not less than ten seconds later. 

"Come on, come on, come on," I said, leading them to the front doors. "Alshed better not be here."

We rushed in and ignored the stares of the people in the lobby to move over to the door that led to the back rooms. I fished out my keys and unlocked it, adrenaline making my hands shaky. 

We all filed into the room in a less exuberant manner and I looked around for Radolm. I saw him walking back to his desk from a filing cabinet, and then do a double-take when he saw me and four other slightly damp teens with me. He blinked a little and gave a stern look to Jack, James, and Brandon.

"Why are you three back here?" Radolm asked. 

"They're with me," I said before Radolm could throw them out. "They know."

He blinked in surprise. "They know?"

"And we've also been chased by government officials with tracker dogs," Jack said brightly. 

"It's been a fun day," added Brandon dryly. 

Radolm looked at us as if we were slightly crazy. That may have been an accurate assessment, really. 

"Where's Chief?" I asked. "Has Alshed been here yet?"

"He's in the backroom," Radolm said. "And no, she hasn't."

"That's great," I said. I led my group to the back room, interrupting what looked like Lou's sandwich break. 

"Kenia!" he greeted me, waving his sandwich. "You're just in time for…" he trailed off noticing the four other teens behind me and the fact that we were all drenched in river water. " What happened?" he asked, all cheerfulness gone. 

"Alshed happened," I said grimly. "She stalked Mela and me around town."

"And then you found other people like you're supposed to do," said Lou, dragging a hand down his face. 

"And that didn't stop her so we rode away from her on bikes and then went through the river because they could've gotten dogs and then they _did_ get dogs and then we climbed up a hill to get to here and–"

Brandon put his hand over James' mouth to stop him from babbling some more. 

"The point is, we know that Kenia's even cooler than we thought she was before," Jack said. "If you know what I mean."

I rolled my eyes and sighed while Mela put her head in her hands. 

Lou slowly set his sandwich down. "Great," he said. "This is wonderful. Really makes my day." 

He stood up and leaned against the wall. He muttered something about a "goddamn sandwich."

Brandon looked at him. "With all due respect sir, can you help us?" he asked. 

Lou looked up. "Kenia will be of more use to you, but I'll do what I can," he said. He turned to me. "Kenia, Alshed is due for our lunch in fifteen minutes. Don't run back through Thornbranch. Take MacFinn's car and get to your house. Lock it down, get ready to get out of state. You might have to," he said. "I have a spare of MacFinn's keys. He gave a set to me if he ever locked his keys in the car."

He held the set up and dropped it in my hand. 

"Everyone else, you need to follow her. Kenia knows what she's doing," he said.

Brandon looked dubious. "Has this situation happened before?" he asked. "What the heck can we do?"

Lou looked at him and I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. 

"Brandon Jameson," he said. "You're the punk who pulled off a morally ambiguous surprise Christmas decorating a few years back, despite being under lock and key."

Brandon nodded, slightly uncomfortable. "That's me, sir," he said. 

Lou turned to Jack. "Jack Emford. You're the kid who was planning to go head-to-head with an armed gunman with a bag of candy."

Jack nodded proudly. "I know that it probably wasn't the best course of action, but I remain proud of what I did."

Lou finally turned to James. 

"Liam Scolt," he said. "The student who forcibly downloaded Minecraft onto every hunk of metal the school board calls a computer."

James shrugged. "Ain't my fault that they blacklisted the wrong search terms."

He looked at all of us. "You five pick the strangest friends," he said. "But you have basically built a kingdom. Or a non-malicious gang. You have connections to every group of kids through friends or siblings. Put all of them on alert."

Brandon looked confused. "Sir, how will that help us?"

Lou smiled. "Children are some of the most observant people out there," he said. "In bigger cities, the homeless can hold more information than two dozen tips. Women who work as… ah… "

I could see Lou was struggling to put it nicely. 

"Women who work in the street corner industry," I supplied.

Lou nodded. "Yes. Anyone who doesn't learn about the call for information easily. Children are included."

Jack smirked. "So, we're the hub of info in this town?" he asked. "I can agree with that."

Lou nodded. "You have information. All you need to do is send a word down the grapevine."

James' eyes lit up with a wicked gleam of knowledge. 

"Phones," he said, snapping his fingers. 

Our phones were mostly unharmed from our little stroll in the river, thanks to fast reflexes and waterproof cases. Brandon and Jack handed over their phones almost immediately. Mela glared at James a little and handed over hers a little more reluctantly. James looked at me expectantly. I shook my head. 

"I don't have anyone on there who would be of any use," I said. "Really, there's just you four, Lou, and MacFinn."

James shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, with all the things we pull off, you should have more contacts," he said. He tapped across all four phones for a few minutes. A scowl came across his face. 

"What's wrong?" Jack prompted. 

"Your messaging systems are pieces of shit," he said bluntly. "I'm gonna have to get back to my desktops and somehow get a single text to over fifty contacts."

"Can't you just use a group message?" I asked.

James shook his head. "There are too many people for it to be practical. And just sending it to everybody on the device would raise suspicion, if not swamp us with confused texts from distant family."

"Can you do anything here?" Brandon asked. "We're kinda on a time limit."

"Rush a miracle worker, you get shit miracles," James snapped. "I'm sending out what information I can to first priority people."

"Stuff like who's involved and what cars to look out for," I said to Lou, who looked puzzled. "First priority is fellow team members and friend group leaders."

Just then, Radolm came bursting in. He had obviously been running and I now knew that to be an omen of danger. 

"Alshed's here," he panted.

"I'll stall her," Lou said quickly. "Get to this kid's house." He gestured to James. "Use MacFinn's car. Kenia has the keys." He rushed out of the room, leaving the five of us and Radolm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter, but I'm in a rush. See ya! 
> 
> Also, I hate school. With a fiery, burning passion.


	13. Part 13: Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go on. What are you reading this for?

Hello, dear readers. 

Don't worry, this story is still going on. I'd be insane to just abandon what is the equivalent of my beloved dog. I'd just thought that you'd might like to get an update on the primordial mess that is my creative mind. More specifically, changes to stories and connecting them in a greater universe. 

So there are some points I'd like to address:

  * Changes to stories outside of Look at Me and Remember
  * Complete upheavals of other stories
  * String them all together in a universe
  * Possible future stories.
  * The posting of other stories that are in the process of being written



 

So. Number one. This bleeds into Number two.

You may or may not have read I am the Gentle Autumn Rain, another story I have on my account. It's completed, and its sequel, I am a Thousand Winds That Blow, is in the process of being written. However, I haven't touched that in months, so it's a little questionable if I'll push myself to complete it. They weren't as popular, but I still had fun writing them, and that was what counted for me at the time.

But anyway, I had an odd dream last night. 

Bear with me. 

In it, it was like watching a movie. To make a long story short, I saw potential story material in it, and instead of paying attention to the lecture in Science, I planned out the story from scratch. That version might be much darker, with potential rape/non-con. I have never ever at all written that, so it wouldn't be anything graphic. More like some general insinuations. I had also toyed with the idea of adding that to LaMaR, with Alshed being a lot darker in nature. Because I'm (very very very likely, but like a five percent chance it might happen in a sequel) not going to do this, I'll tell you what I had in mind. Warning more sorta-kinda-maybe spoilers ahead: ALSO AN F-BOMB WEE WOO WEE WOO F-BOMB ALERT

  * The girls (Mela and Kenia) get captured by Alshed. This will happen, later on, but everything except the last bullet point might happen at some point or another, and not necessarily in that order either. 
  * After their first attempt to escape, they get captured and put into two separate cells, Mela with a regular cell, Kenia with a reinforced steel room. 
  * Alshed comes to question Kenia, Kenia refuses.
  * Alshed then threatens her, threatening that she will do something to Mela. 
  * Kenia fucking _dares_  that bitch to do something, believing that Mela will give whatever is handed to her back tenfold. 
  * A screen in the corner of the room shows Alshed enter Mela's cell.
  * Alshed starts questioning Mela. Mela is spitting curses at her in Arabic or Estonian or whatever language. 
  * You know. That.



Why I originally toyed with this idea is the thought that Kenia and Mela would have to deal with Alshed, and Mela would seem like a girl who'll be damned if she doesn't get some sort of payback. But how people react to traumatic events such as sexual assault can be far different from what their personalities suggest. I thought I could explore that, but ultimately, I let it go, thinking that it would change the tone of the story too much.

Number three. Stringing them all together. 

Because everybody wants to be Marvel. And so do I, apparently. 

A rough timeline:

The events of the series The Elemental Saga (with I am the Gentle Autumn Rain and such forth) will take place before LaMaR. Officer Collins mentioned offhandedly by MacFInn is not the Ted Collins that picks up Samuel Lancost. It will be someone else, but I don't know who. The story that Ghostly Hymns is from will take place later after the events of LaMar, with the main character's roommate being Mela's cousin. Don't ask me how I'm working things out, but I'm trying really hard, okay?

Which brings me to point four. 

Future stories might include some story adaptions from poems that I wrote. They can be found in the story Wish Brightly, Dream Deeply, which got WAY more popular than I thought it would. You all seem to like my crap poetry, so I guess I'll keep writing it. 

Point Five. 

I will most likely wait until the stories would be finished to post them. At the very least, to give me breathing room so I'm not stressing about getting the next chapter up for you guys. 

Because y'all are wonderful. 

See ya later!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, it will be back to your regularly scheduled shapeshifter escapades.


	14. We're In.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to play with some tech. James is a long-suffering genius, and more background characters are introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer than usual, but it's nowhere near that whopper of 4000 words. I had both a lot of fun and a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, mainly because I wanted to stay away from the Hollywood hacker, while not making the characters spend hours and hours waiting for James to get through. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Can we use the back entrance?" Brandon asked. "Or wherever you go to leave regularly?"

Radolm nodded. "That'll be on the side of the building," he said. "It's mostly hidden by some bushes and some fencing."

"We'll follow you," I said. "I'll bring up the rear."

"Like hell," Jack said. "Those guys are after you. You go in the middle."

I opened my mouth to protest. Mela shot me a look that clearly said arguing would be useless and time-wasting. 

Brandon and Mela took the lead while Jack and James went behind me. Radolm led us to the parking lot without running into anyone. 

At this point, I led them over to MacFinn's car. I kept glancing around, looking for unfamiliar cars or people.

"Kenia, Lou said that you have the keys?" Radolm asked. 

I nodded wordlessly and handed them over to him. He unlocked the car and I immediately claimed shotgun, leaving Mela and the three boys to fight over who would sit in the third row. 

Why MacFinn had a car that seats seven people, I'll never know. 

They were just barely buckled in when Radolm started moving. He drove within speed limits to avoid suspicion. Mela poked me in the back of the head. 

“Flip your hood up,” she hissed. “Slump in your seat like you’re a surly teenager.”

I mutely did as I was told as Radolm made it to the front of the building. Multiple black cars were in the parking lot. 

“Brandon, Jack, keep your eyes peeled,” I said, still slumped. “If they start to follow us, let us know.”

I could see them both nod in the rearview mirror.

“James, can you do anything else?” Mela asked. 

“Working on it, but this lack of connection is very irritating,” James said. He let out a half-scream, half-groan. “WHY DO BOTH OF YOU HAVE NO DATA?” he demanded of Brandon and Jack. 

“They must’ve used it all,” said Mela, unperturbed. 

“ _They had an unlimited data plan,_ ” James growled venomously. “How do you _run out_ of something that is _unlimited_?”

“I don’t know, but we somehow did it,” said Brandon. 

James went back to muttering curses under his breath. 

“Liam, or James, or whoever you’re called, how do we get to your house?” Radolm asked. 

James looked up. His eyes flicked around, taking in the names of the streets. I knew he was mentally plotting the map in his mind. He knew Anweal better than anyone. As such, he could basically find his way to anywhere from any random point.  

“Take a left, then right, then take the fourth left, then the third right, and then Kenia will know what house,” he said, and went back to fiddling with the phones. 

Radolm blinked but followed the directions mutely. We pulled into a residential street. I counted to houses as we went by. I tapped Radolm on the shoulder and pointed to a bluish-gray house. 

“There,” I said. 

He pulled into the driveway and we all climbed out of the car. I looked at Radolm. He was still in the car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “I’m going to drive around some more,” he said. “I’ll try and throw them off. Maybe do some grocery shopping.” He tried to smile. It looked more like a grimace. 

“Just as long as you pay for gas,” I said. I punched his shoulder lightly. “Be careful, will you? Who else is going to sled on the roofs with me next winter?” 

Radolm smirked. “Who else is going to wrap your sprained wrist when it goes horribly wrong?”

“My point exactly,” I said. “Now have fun dragging your stalkers all over town.”

He nodded and reversed out of the driveway. I turned around to see that the rest of the group was already in the house, save for Mela, who was holding the door open for me.  

“Are you coming, or what?” Mela yelled. 

I ran inside. Mela and I walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Scolt was making sandwiches and looking rather confused as James tapped away at the phones. She looked a little tired, and her eyes were slightly red. I didn’t blame her. It was only yesterday that her son’s life was in danger at a place that he should’ve been safe. Again.

“Hi, kids,” she said. “How are you holding up? Do any of you want a sandwich?”

I and Mela declined politely. Neither of us really had an appetite. 

“Is this one of your ‘squad goals?’” she asked, gesturing to James and the array of phones. If I was eating a sandwich, I would’ve choked on it. That said, Jack made a funny noise like a mouse being stepped on and Brandon sounded like he had something unpleasant lodged in his throat. 

“No, Mom, please never say those words again,” said James, not looking up. “It’s a friends thing that has to do with computers, and speaking of them, I need to go to my room.” He scooped them all up and booked it for the stairs. I could hear Ford, James’ old Golden Retriever, barking at him from the living room. He ambled into the kitchen, nosing at our hands, looking for pats. 

Jack obliged and Mrs. Scolt sat down. “So what is this?” she asked. “It better not be another prank. The last thing I need is for Liam to decide to shut down every iPhone within a thirty-mile radius.”

Brandon shook his head. “Oh, no, nothing like that Mrs. Scolt,” he said. 

“We’re just trying to see how many people a group-chat can handle,” said Jack with a straight face. We were all excellent liars, but none of us could quite lie well enough to our guardians. I could blame MacFinn for being a cop, but then James had to lie to his mother about where he was going. Brandon had to step in and convince her that we weren't going to rob a bank or run away to Mexico. I mean, we weren't going to do that anyway, but mothers can have crazy ideas about what dastardly things their teenage children are up to. 

“Isn’t there already a set limit?” Mrs. Scolt asked dubiously. 

Jack grinned. “That’s the beauty of it, Mrs. Scolt,” he said. “James has found a way to bypass that limit.”

“We should probably see how many he’s got so far,” Mela said.

“Yeah, see you Mrs. Scolt,” I said as we made our way to the stairs.

Brandon knocked on James’ door. “Dot dash dot dot,” he said. “Dot dot. Dash dash. Dot dash.”

There was a moment of silence from behind the door. Then came a very quick, “Dash dot dot dot dot dash dot dot dash dot dot dot dash dash dash dash.”

I blinked. I knew Morse code well enough, but that was ridiculously fast. It seemed like they had spelled Lima then Bravo. A flash of understanding hit me and I remembered the NATO phonetic alphabet. Bravo was the word for the letter B, and Lima was for the letter L. It was a double cipher.

The door opened and James rushed back to his desk. As we walked in, Jack closed and locked the door behind him. Brandon moved over to an open closet and took out two pairs of boots with socks neatly rolled up inside. He tossed a pair to Jack and laced his pair up. “Sorry, but I don’t think we have any shoes in your sizes,” he said to us. “If you have to run again, you might have to do it barefoot. Better to have sore feet than trip and break an ankle.”

“Let me see,” Mela said and kneeled next to Brandon. She dug around in the closet for a few seconds and then pulled out a pair of beaten-up sneakers. “These ones are smaller,” she said. “They’ll fit me well enough.”

“I can run barefoot,” I said. “I’ve done it before. Concrete and cement isn’t that bad as long as you’re moving fast enough. If we’re going through a wooded area with lots of sharp pointy things, then I’ll just shift.” I turned to James who was as his desk. “So what was with the Morse Code?”

“I’m not letting anyone in without identification ciphers,” James said. “We’re playing with the big boys now and I’ll be damned if we have a rat in our midst. They will rue the day that they decided to mess with the highschoolers of Anweal.”

Mela looked a little confused. “How will they take the place of one of us that we would need identification ciphers?” she asked. “They’re government agents, not aliens.”

James thrust a finger at her. “For all we know, they’re from another universe. They could be SHIELD. Or Sector Seven. Or Cadmus,” he said, slightly hysterically. He took a deep breath. 

“James, you already make the kid from Home Alone cry with shame,” Jack said calmly. “They’re probably just people.”

“I like to be prepared,” he said, slightly calmer. He turned back to his computers. “Just so everyone is on the same page, identity ciphers are what we use to validate another’s identity. The number of ciphers should be connected to how serious the situation is. If it’s not all that important, but you just want to make sure, use one. If it’s important and you’re not all that clear on who the person is, use two. If you don’t know who the hell you’re talking to, use three. If it hinges on the success of the mission or there’s a known traitor, use four, and if it’s life or death and you’re not playing around, use five.”

“I’m assuming we’re using five,” Mela said. 

“From here on out, yes,” James said. “As of now, this room’s secure. The people who followed us should have no idea who we are because we haven’t really sat down and talked and drank tea in a while. Anyone calls us, you use identity ciphers if the person calling should know them. If it’s the Chief, then hand it over to Kenia. I’m assuming that you know him well enough to pick up on any red flags.”

I nodded mutely.

“Excellent,” he said. “The phones are all plugged in. I got the screens to show up on the monitors. Don’t ask me how. I just clicked through menus until that happened.” He turned his swivel chair over to a different screen. “All texts are showing up here. Most of them are requests for information.” He leaned forward. “What’s really funny is that they’re all very formal, very militaristic,” he said. “Chief was right. We did build an empire.”

“What information are you sending out?” Brandon asked. 

“All of it,” James replied, waving at several more monitors. “It’s over there.”

True enough, James had multiple monitors set up, all running different programs. I could see information scrolling very fast across screens. What little I could make out was license plate numbers, descriptions, and phone numbers. 

“How the hell did you get the plate numbers?” I asked, amazed. 

“Traffic cameras,” he said in reply. “I know, I know, it’s illegal, and I’ll pay the price later. But attempted kidnapping, abduction, and stalking is also very illegal.”

“There’s no way you got those as soon as you sat down at your computer,” Mela said. “Unless you’re actually like the hackers in Hollywoods movies.”

James snorted. “Yeah, nobody can just bash a few keys and say ‘I’m in,’” he said. “Hacking is a very long process of bypassing firewalls and finding the admin’s loopholes.”

“So how did you get them?” I asked. 

“I was dabbling in a gray-hat hacker type of situation,” James admitted. “I told them about the loophole, and instead of pressing charges, they gave me five hundred bucks to fix it.”

“You did it for five hundred?” Jack asked, sounding slightly incredulous. “Man, you could’ve gotten at least two thousand.”

“I would’ve fixed it for free,” James retorted, wheeling his chair over to another computer screen. “I’m nice like that. But anyway, I left just wide enough of a spot to let me get back in if I ever needed to do something.”

“Like what?” asked Brandon. “What could you possibly need traffic cameras for?”

James shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “It just seems like a useful thing to have on hand.”

“Let’s hope you never have ambitions to shut down world governments,” Mela said dryly. 

“I doubt I could do that,” said James, typing so fast his fingers were a blur. “At most, I could probably shut down some cell lines, or cause a little chaos with a weak virus. Nothing would be permanent, and the people at the Pentagon could shut down any virus I cooked up in around five minutes.”

He pushed away from the desk he was at and rode his wheely chair over to the other side of the room. He dug out some tiny tools and started fiddling with something. 

“What is that?” Brandon asked. 

“A bug that I found under my seat,” Jack said. 

“And as of now, I’m going to figure out where it’s from,” James said. “Then, I’ll give the people who put it there a taste of their own medicine.”

“So they heard everything we said?” Mela asked. 

“No,” James said. “At least, I don't think so. It looks like a simple recorder, made to be planted and retrieved later. While it does record what we say and sends it back to wherever we came from,  no one can look at the recording until…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful. 

“Until what?” Brandon asked.

James hunched over the small device and carefully extracted something, keeping all the wires connected. It looked like a microchip. 

“Until this little beauty is inserted into a drive,” he said triumphantly. He put it back in. He pushed what looked like a magnifying glass on steroids in front of the bug. He sat up and swore. 

“What now?” I asked. 

James leaned back in his wheely chair and rubbed his forehead. “The chip has a tracer on it,” he said. “It’s another weird piece of tech. It looks like it’s activated by a remote signal. It’s not on now, but…” 

“It could go on at any time,” Mela concluded grimly. 

“Bingo,” said James. 

“Do you think you could shield it or something?” asked Jack. 

“I’ve only ever heard of that working the other way around, with a remote signal scrambling communications,” James said. “Even if I knew how to do it, the tech won’t recognize the signal as unfamiliar, and thus, the spawn of Hell. If anything, it would backfire on me and probably force a connection as soon as I try to rewrite that chunk of code.”

“And that would tip them off,” I said, thinking. An idea came to me. “Is there any signal the tracer itself is putting out?” I asked. “For it to force a connection, wouldn’t it have to have a signal of its own?”

James’ eyes widened. “There’s an idea,” he muttered. He tapped his desk with a pen that came from literally nowhere. “Good news and bad news,” he said suddenly. “What one do you want?”

“Good news,” we all said.

“Okay, so Kenia was right, there is a signal going somewhere from that tracer,” James said quickly, “And I could probably piggyback it secretly and find out where it’s sending to.”

“That’s great!” Jack said. “What’s the bad news?”

“To do that, I’ll need to play around in the coding a bit,” James said. “To get to the code, I need to get that chip in a computer, but if I plug it in, there’s a chance that the tracer’s signal will stop, or it will force the connection to wherever the signal that activates it comes from.”

“What’s the chance?” Mela asked. 

James shrugged. “Best guess? Thirty-five sixty-five that it won’t force connect to it does.” He was quiet for a second. “I can try and find another way to-”

“Do it,” I interrupted. “Try piggybacking the signal through the code. If it force connects, get the hell away and run. They’re after me, not you.”

 “Or, better idea here,” Jack said. “You run and we stay here. After all, we’re just bored kids who found a doohickey on the ground and brought it to the local nerd to screw with it.”

James punched him at the ‘local nerd’ part. 

“You’ll need to hide all the info on them from scrolling across the screens, even if it looks really cool,” I warned. 

James beamed. “I know right? But,” he said, as a ding went off, “All relevant information has been sent out to every ally we have. Everyone who isn’t a prick, narc, or over the age of twenty-two will be on the lookout for Cadillac Escalade Lady.”

“Then put the damn chip in, James,” Brandon said. “We’ve done everything we can.”

James nodded and carefully brought the chip and the components attached to it over to his computer. He knelt down and gingerly put the chip into a slot. 

The computer dinged and we all sucked in a breath. James cautiously looked at the screen and clicked into a few menus. He started smiling, a small one, and then it grew into a triumphant grin.

“How are we?” I asked anxiously. 

He looked back at us and grinned, a savage smile, with the glint of wicked intelligence in his eyes.

“We’re in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have a side story or something that takes place before the events of this story that revolves around Radolm. I really like his character and I want to do something more with him. Also, you might have to wait a while for the next chapter. I have to connect one chunk of story to another, and they're almost matching up, but they're not quite there yet. 
> 
> See ya!


	15. The Traitor Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's story time! Also, cliffhangers! (sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crappola people 80 views?!!?!? Srsly you guys are the best. 
> 
> Also, I'll edit out typos later. I'm in a rush.

“We are?” we all said, shocked. 

“Seriously?” Brandon asked, starting to grin like a maniac.

“That’s my man!” Jack cheered. He slapped James’ shoulder. 

“You literally clicked a few buttons and said ‘We’re in,’” said Mela. “I thought it didn’t work like that.”

“Well, then the computer gods have smiled upon us,” I said wryly. “And besides, we’re not out of the woods yet. Are you in the code?”

James smiled smugly and sat in his wheely chair. “Damn right I’m in the code, Kenia,” he said. “The tracker is still inactive and is still putting out that signal. The recorder I now mess with, and that’ll be the most fun.”

Mela noted the glint in his eyes. “What do you have in mind?” she asked. 

James looked like it was his birthday and Christmas combined. “Oh, the possibilities,” he sighed. “I can play whatever the recorder is picking up from whatever computer the chip is broadcasting to. The most boring and sensible route would be to make it play a loop of silence, over and over, thus giving our enemy nothing. Another, more fun, possibility would be to make it play the blast of an air horn or the Soviet Anthem.”

I snorted. “Oh my God,  _ yes _ ,” I said.

“Even better,” Jack said, leaning forward. “The song Lay That Missile Down.”

“Brilliant,” Mela said. 

“While that would be hilarious,” Brandon admitted. “We have to do the loop of silence. If the computer where they’re broadcasting to starts blaring ‘Russia, Russia,’ then they know someone’s found it.”

Jack slumped. “Is there any chance that they’ll think that Russia hijacked their signal?” he asked. 

James sighed, disappointed. “No, it’s a local signal,” he said. “It shouldn’t be on any international radar.”

“Just loop the silence,” Brandon said. “If we get the chance, then we can do that.”

James looked at him, suddenly dead serious. “If we do that,” he said, “Then it’s going to be total warfare. Otherwise, they’ll be able to track us. It’s all or nothing.” With that, he started typing. 

Mela frowned, looking slightly confused. “What’s total warfare for you guys?” she asked. 

I was similarly curious. While we were part of the team, there were things that we hadn’t been privy to, things that only the three boys knew. Most of it was because they just didn’t mention it or forgot to tell us. 

“Total warfare is when we wreak as much havoc as possible and then go off the grid,” Jack said. “Brandon would call out sick for a few days. I would disconnect everything electronic and bury them in Thornbranch. James would wipe his hard drives completely.”

“The only way he could get everything back is with a series of flash drives that he would keep on a loop around his neck,” Brandon said, looking over James' shoulder as he rewrote code. “And even then, they’re all encrypted.”

“We’ve never had to do that before,” James said, leaning back from his computer. “When there was the Traitor Incident, we debated doing it. But total warfare is the last cast of the dice for us. If we do it, then that’s probably going to be it. That’s most likely when we shut down.” He turned around in his chair. “Completely. It’s our act of ‘If we’re going to crash and burn, you’ll be burning with us.’”

I understood why they had never done that. It was an overwhelming move against an enemy, but to do that would be to wipe out the last of their reserves. It would destroy everything, not to mention also be extremely illegal. If they were caught doing that, prison could be a very real possibility.

“Was the Traitor Incident that bad?” Mela asked. “I mean, it’s already legendary, but to destroy everything because of it?”

“If you’re going to tell them about that, don’t do it here,” James said, turning back to his coding. “I can’t code while angry, and I’m still holding a grudge.”

“Call us when you’re ready,” Brandon said, and we all filed out of the room. 

We walked down the stairs and through the kitchen. Mrs. Scolt looked rather alarmed that James wasn’t with us. 

“Is Liam alright?” she asked, looking like she was about to cry. Mrs. Scolt was a strong woman, to be sure, but at some point or another, everybody reaches their limit. She reminded me of a young bird, all delicate supports and sharp edges.

“Liam is fine, Mrs. Scolt,’ Mela reassured her. “He just needs to do some computer wizardry in absolute silence.”

She let out a shaky sigh and shut her eyes tight. “Okay,” she almost whispered, leaning against the counter with both hands. “Okay,” she said a little more firmly. She looked back up at us. “Let me guess,” she said, her voice forced to be light. “The Traitor Incident?”

“You know the whole story?” Brandon asked, a trifle incredulously.

“No, but the only time he ever came in the door, sounding like Yosemite Sam and looking like a hunted animal was when he was muttering about a traitor, using some very colorful adjectives,” Mrs. Scolt said. “When I asked him about it a week later, he said that he would never speak of the Traitor Incident.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming this is one of the things I shouldn’t question, along with the reason as to why James needs all his screens in that exact position in his room.”

“Well, the former is right, but the latter is just because James is a little OCD when it comes to his tech,” Jack said cheerfully. 

“Well, you’re welcome to the basement if you need me to stay away from your super-secret meeting,” Mrs. Scolt said. 

“That would be fine, Mrs. Scolt,” Brandon said. “Thanks.”

We turned and went down the stairs that led to the basement. Far from being the dank, dark stereotype of basements, it was well-lit and contained all manner of gaming consoles. There were also a number of beanbag chairs. Both Brandon and Jack flopped down onto a beanbag. 

“Take a seat and gather ‘round, children,” Jack said, waving a hand. 

Mela picked up a pillow and threw it at him. Jack was nailed in the head by it. 

We both sat down and Brandon leaned forward. 

“So what do you know about the Traitor Incident?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “Just rumors,” I said. “Back before we were part of the team, you had another kid in your circle. You were the ultimate pranksters, but the thing was, nobody knew who the fourth person was. We all knew that you three had to be seventy-five percent of the group, we just didn’t know who the fourth one was.”

Mela nodded. “I tried so damn hard to figure out who the person was. I had my suspicions, but none of them seemed to fit in perfectly. I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t another boy, but a girl, but that was when the Incident happened,” she said. “Then the group broke up and all I was left with was legends and the proof of my own eyes. I was the first to see that the middle school’s principal had bright neon pink eyebrows.”

“I still don’t know how you did that,” I said, shaking my head. “But anyway, right before the Incident, you three started acting all squirrely like you knew someone was watching you.”

“You started muttering to each other in the hallways and at classes,” Mela said. “I’m guessing that you were using the identity ciphers.”

“It all came to a head a week later, where the middle school’s basement was flooded and the computer labs started smoking,” I said. “All the computers seemed to be fine until the tech guys found what I heard was a nasty virus that had wiped everything that wasn’t private or belonging to the administration. You three were going to be suspended for a week, based on suspicion only.”

“He was actually going to press charges against you. I pleaded, or rather, challenged, the principal on your behalf, knowing full well that it was you who were the culprits,” Mela said and spread her hands. “But all the evidence they had was circumstantial, and all it took was a little pressure on him to cave against both punishments. I said that I knew all the evidence against you was circumstantial at best and wouldn’t hold up in court. Then you would have the option to counter-sue, and you would probably win, and wouldn’t that just be a smear on the golden reputation of the school?”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “That was  _ you _ ?” he asked incredulously. “He made it seem like some mysterious benefactor paid him a pretty penny of hush-money to keep him quiet.”

Mela’s lips quirked into a smile. “Well, Anweal needed its version of the Three Musketeers,” she said. “And look how well that’s paid off for us.”

Brandon sighed and leaned back. “Well, that’s a good sign,” he said. “The only things you know are the things we wanted people to know.”

It was my turn to lean forward. “So there’s more to the story?” I asked. 

Jack snorted. “Kenia, of course, there’s more to the story,” he said. “The fourth member of our group was a girl called Emily Hershstop. She went by the name Hecate instead, back when we had secret names. James was Ugo, Brandon was Dax, and I was Trace.”

“Ugo means intelligent, Dax means leader, and Trace means brave,” I said. “You named yourselves after your attributes?” 

Jack nodded. “Plus, they were all relatively uncommon names, so nobody would get confused.”

“Wait a minute,” Mela said, her eyes narrowing. “Hecate was the Greek goddess of sorcery and trickery. What was Emily’s job?” 

Brandon sighed. “Her job was to scout out locations before we did an operation,” he said. “That’s partially why we have so much surveillance equipment. We can’t depend on someone to always scout out a location up to our code. Whereas Emily could spot the footholds and handholds in a seemingly sheer cliff face in around fifteen minutes, it’ll take us anywhere from four to six hours before we could even start.”

Jack nodded. “Hecate was an invaluable asset to us,” he said. Then his face darkened with old anger. “Until she decided to challenge Brandon for the leadership of the group.”

Brandon groaned and put his face into his hands. “Jack, for the last time,” he said, voice muffled by his hands. “She did not  _ challenge me. _ ”

Jack remained unmoved. “She did,” he said. “She wanted to lead the group in where we did our operations, what jobs we took.” Seeing our confused looks, he said, “Back in the day, we did jobs for money, whether it be keying an ex's car or a surprise holiday decorating. James was actually the last of our group to join. He was down the road to becoming a black-hat hacker, and while he was good, he was also being reckless. He was paving his way down to the federal prison, and he knew it. He didn’t care.”

“I befriended him, more or less,” Brandon said. “It was more like I sat with him at lunch after I intervened on his behalf when some assholes were making fun of him. I sat and read while he simultaneously typed away furiously and glared at me.”

“We brought him around eventually,” Jack said, “And thus, the four was created, and we were the people for hire. If you wanted it, and it lined up with our moral standards, we did it. But Hecate?”

“She wanted to do more than keying up cars,” Brandon said, frowning. “The jobs she wanted to take were downright dangerous, if not to mention, borderline illegal.”

“Arson, vandalism, you name it,” Jack said, shaking his head. “If it paid well, Hecate wanted to do it. Money was power for her, and she wanted it all.”

“I tried to caution her,” Brandon said. “A wolf keeps pushing and pushing its place in the pack, trying to up its position, for the better sleeping spot, for eating sooner. It does this until the alpha snaps at it, reminding it of its place.” He sighed. “I should’ve snapped at her sooner.”

“Hecate tricked us into helping her in a job that would result in the entire school being flooded, causing millions of dollars in damage,” Jack said. “Not to mention, there would also be people inside. “Brandon caught on a little early, and told us his suspicions.”

“That’s the week when we were acting all secretive,” Brandon said. “We didn’t want her to find out. When we found out for sure that she was planning on flooding the school, it was almost too late. As you know, only the basement flooded. Hecate was furious that we ruined her plan, and started fabricating digital evidence against us on the school computers, setting us up for the fall.”

“That’s when James came in with his virus and had to wipe the computers,” Jack said. “While we knew that the evidence was fabricated, it was very convincing that it wasn’t. James was reluctant to do more hacking, but we had no choice at that point. If we got caught, we would be going to juvie anyway.”

“So the computers were wiped, and you got the hell out of there,” I said. “And then you were suspects in the entire thing, but all the evidence against you was circumstantial, and Mela got you out.”

Brandon nodded. “That’s the long and short of it,” he said.

“What happened to Hecate?” Mela asked. 

Jack shrugged. “She stayed for the rest of the year, and we locked her out of everything,” he said. “She moved away from Anweal that summer. I heard that she got in trouble with the law not soon after.”

Mela sat back. “Wow,” she said. “That’s one hell of a story.”

“And it’s all true,” Brandon said. 

We sat in silence for another minute or two before the door at the top of the stairs slammed open and James came flying down, taking three steps at a time. 

“Guys, we have to go,” he panted. “Like, right now. The Cadillacs are here.”

“How do we get out?” asked Brandon, already formulating a plan. “Fire code says that there needs to be at least two exits from the basement. Is there a window?”

Still wheezing slightly, James pointed to a window at the top of the wall. Jack, the tallest of us, went over and started forcing it open. He dragged over an actual chair and climbed out when he got it open. Mela was next, and then Brandon went. 

James motioned for me to go. “It’s my house, I have a reason for being here,” he said.

I glared. “Like hell. They’ll just take you too.”

 James sighed and climbed out. I was the last one up and Mela helped pull me out. I looked around us. James’ house bordered the same forest as mine, but maybe a quarter of a mile away. “What do we do now?” I asked. 

Brandon looked around and seemed to come to a decision. “We run. Split up,” he said. “Choose a direction and run.” With that, he took off running, closely followed by Jack and James. 

Mela grinned at me. “Happy hunting.”

We both took off into the thick underbrush and I lost sight of her almost immediately. 

_ The hunt is on, _ I thought grimly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more chapters prewritten, but I'm going to pace myself. 
> 
> See ya!


	16. Captures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, mountain lions aren't the apex predators. Kenia learns this the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO HOOOO 100 VIEWS!!!!!!!!
> 
> *Pops champagne*
> 
> A day of celebration, dear readers!

I tore through the thick foliage, not bothering to hide my trail behind me. At this point, I was just trying to be the most enticing and obvious target. 

It wouldn't have done any good, either. They already had their eyes on me, as I was being closely followed by a Jeep. I could still shake them off my tail, but that would require me shifting, and I didn't want to tip my hand. 

But, as they say, the best-laid plans…

My plan was shot to hell when what sounded like a bullet whizzed over my head. 

I looked back over my shoulder. 

There was Alshed, leaning out of the passenger side window, pointing the muzzle of a handgun at me. I swore under my breath. 

"Jesus Christ, lady!" I shouted back to her. "That's just low!"

I started running faster, drawing on the speed I knew I always had when I was a cougar. 

The thing about running through a forest is that you need to know the terrain. Otherwise, you trip over roots, fall face-first into a stream or just get lost.

Somehow, we had crossed into the woods behind my house. I vaguely recognized the claw marks in the trees, realizing that they were mine. I knew this place. It was the same track that I had ran last night in my blind panic. I ran through the trees, found briars to jump over, and even used some low branches to give myself little surges of speed, swinging forward. 

I giggled to myself. 

_ Hah, I'm Tarzan now. _

I wasn't all that lucid. I blamed it on the adrenaline.

Another bullet whizzed over my head and buried itself in a tree trunk next to me. 

I realized that it wasn't a bullet at all. It was a tranq dart. 

They were trying to take me alive. 

I reached an area of forest where the grass was extremely tall. I didn't remember this from last night, but everything else was perfectly slotted in. This must have been when I was running from… that thought. I had to hope it would hide me from my pursuers' view. I dropped down and shifted. I charged forward and started sprinting as fast as I could. 

The Jeep dropped farther behind me, but before I could celebrate my small victory, I realized that the grassy area was coming to an end. 

I didn't have time to shift back. I charged out of the grass as a fully-grown cougar, jet black and massive. I picked up some gasps from behind me, and I knew I had to shake these chuckleheads. 

I dug my class into the ground and kept pounding forward, just trying to put distance between me and the Jeep. 

But it was too late. 

Running through a forest at full speed also doesn't give you a lot of time for making fancy maneuvers among the trees, no matter what the TV says. There's no way anyone could turn on a dime and not run face-first into a tree or trip over a bush.

This meant that while I was moving fast, I also wasn't deviating from a linear path by too much. Which, of course, made me a pretty good target. 

So when I felt a sting in my left hind leg, I knew I was screwed. I let out four short calls, or roars, or whatever the hell mountain lions do, a sign that I was in danger. I trusted that Mela and the four boys would know what it meant. 

I wasn't unconscious yet, so I assumed that they were using regular tranquilizer darts, or at least a sedative cocktail made for humans. It meant I had time. At best, I would just get dizzy and be able to run away. At worst, they would shoot me until I stopped running.

I suddenly heard Mela yell. She was a good distance away, but still in earshot of a human. It meant that the others could hear her. That was the good part. Then I realized what she yelled. 

"Four!"

Oh, God. 

They got her. 

I shifted my direction to where I heard her last. The Jeep's driver had to slam on the brakes to avoid a high-speed collision with a tree and Alshed almost got thrown out. I dearly hoped she hit her head on a rock. 

I took comfort in that thought and ran faster. 

"Four!" I heard Mela shout. It was weaker this time. I burst into a clearing to a sight straight out of my nightmares. 

Mela was pressing herself heavily against a tree, trying to keep herself upright. People in riot gear were on the edge of the clearing, their tranquilizer guns lowered slightly. At least they knew when someone wasn't a threat anymore.

They did, however, level them at me when they saw me. As they did, I  could see the drug was taking a toll on Mela and she slid down to the ground. 

I reached her in a single bound and stood over her, snarling at the people on the edge of the clearing. 

One reached for his radio. He did it slowly, making sure I could see what he was doing. I growled at him some more but kept my eye on the others in the clearing in case it was a trap. 

"Ma'am," he said quietly into the radio. "There's a black mountain lion standing over the girl. It's snarling at my men-"

"And women," two of the people in the riot gear said. 

I was tempted to fix them with an incredulous look. Was now really the time? Like, I'm all for feminism, but there is a time-

I shook my head slightly. I was starting to feel the effects of the dart. 

"-but it's not attacking. What should we do?"

Alshed's voice crackled over the radio. "It's the mountain lion we want," she said. "Tranq it and take them both. They are to be alive and in relatively good condition."

I snarled louder and took a step forward.1

The man with the radio looked confused. In the back of my mind, I thought that he must've been _ really _ confused if he looked confused with a riot gear covering his face.

"Ma'am, the – the mountain lion?"

"Just do it!" Alshed snapped. 

Mela slumped lower and pushed at my left foreleg and paw. "Kenia," she whispered. "Just go." She tried to push more forcefully but failed. "Kenia! Go!" she repeated, louder this time.

I nudged her with my paw, willing her to understand.

_ I'm not leaving you behind. _

She gave me one last glassy-eyed glare and passed out. 

One of the two women stepped forward. "Permission to fire, sir?" 

I turned and growled, baring as many sharp teeth as I could. It was all for show at this point. I knew I was sunk. 

I saw Brandon, James, and Jack in the trees behind her. I shook my head, hoping they wouldn't do anything stupid. 

Radio Guy sighed. "Permission granted."

She fired twice, both darts hitting their mark. a sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I dropped to the ground, partially on Mela. It wasn't enough to crush her, but it was enough dead weight that moving her would be a bitch and a half.  

I might as well make taking us in as difficult as possible. 

I tried to rise to my feet again but only succeeded in pushing my head and shoulders up before collapsing back down. 

After a few moments, I felt one of them hesitantly approach me. They poked my leg with what felt like a stick. 

At this point, I was so out of it, I could only growl weakly. I couldn't even find the strength to move. 

"Is it out?" a voice demanded. Alshed. My mind flared in fury, but it was all I could do to keep my eyes open.  _ I was not an  _ 'it.'

"Almost," Radio Guy said. "Just noises. No movement."

"What about the girl and the other three?" Alshed snapped. 

"I don't know if you noticed the huge cougar," the woman who hadn't shot me snapped back. "The mountain lion is hiding her. The other three we lost after they jumped off a ledge shouting 'Parkour!'"

Heh. Those three were stubborn sons of bitches and I knew they would be back with a vengeance. Along with anyone who got the message that James sent out. 

"They were obscured from view by the plants below," Radio Guy interjected. "We stopped pursuing them when Simmons radioed in that he got the girl."

Radio Guy and Alshed might have bickered back and forth some more, but my hearing was going a bit funny. 

The last thing I felt was me being lifted up and placed unceremoniously onto what had to be the back of a truck. I slipped into unconsciousness as it started moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this chapter is shorter, so sorry. Also the cliffhanger. 
> 
> This story is legit 70+ pages on Google Docs. In a few chapters, we'll have a change of view. 
> 
> See ya!


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